


Phoenix

by qblackheart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Avengers:Infinity War, Romance, because it's Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qblackheart/pseuds/qblackheart
Summary: Thor lost everything before Thanos even snapped his fingers. It was over now, though, andimbalance had been restored across the universe. Life moved on and it moved Thor along with it: he was King to his people, a friend when needed, and a last hope for the hopeless. Ironic, since his own hopes for happiness had been dashed by his brother’s death. But the Norns had other plans, it seemed. For on his ship, a babe was born: a boy with jet black hair, emerald eyes, and a powerful set of lungs; his mother had even named him Loki to honour their fallen Prince of Asgard. And though Thor missedhisLoki like he missed his will to live, it was hard to mourn with a new little Loki gazing up at him in adoration and trailing after him like a tiny tail. But maybe this Loki was exactly what Thor needed to soothe his shattered soul. Now, if only his real brother would get off his dead arse and hurry back to him; it’d been thirty long years – what the fuck was taking him so long?





	1. Dark is Right

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been translated from the original _Allspeak_. I’m still working out the bugs in my translator, so bear with me if a few mistakes pop up here and there. 
> 
> Anyway, like a lot of us, I was pretty messed up about my favourite dynamic duo in _Infinity War_ , and I needed fix-it fic, stat! There are some amazing ones out there but I had all these scenarios in my head that would not go away. So, I decided to come out of my self-imposed fanfic-writing retirement just to get some peace (which will be shattered anyway when _Endgame_ comes out, but I’ll cross that Bifrost when I come to it). 
> 
> Watching Thor watch Loki die was heart-breaking and gut-wrenching. And the second time I watched the film, Dylan Thomas’ masterful poem came to mind: 
> 
> From Thor’s perspective as he gripped Loki’s lifeless body, as he cried when he told Rocket that this time might be the time Loki stayed dead, when he realised he hadn’t killed Thanos, the longing and the loss in his face was overwhelming: _Do not go gentle into that good night._
> 
> From Loki’s perspective as he watched Thanos’ grip on Thor’s head tighten, as his eyes welled with tears, as he realised what he needed to sacrifice (his life for Thor’s), when he pledged his fidelity to Thanos (to Thor): _Rage, rage against the dying of the light._
> 
> This story got a bit out of control; more is more with me because I cannot seem to keep things short and sweet. Hopefully, I strike the right chord and achieve a good balance. I picked this title because I envisaged both Loki and Thor returning from death and destruction like a pair of pretty phoenixes resurrecting themselves and rising from the ashes. (And then having lots of hot, life-affirming sexy times!).
> 
> About 70% of this fic is written and I am actively working to finish it in the next couple of months, so look for regular postings of new chapters. Thanks so very much to the incredibly talented [golikethatcat](https://golikethatcat.tumblr.com) for taking the time to test read everything for me! I love you!
> 
>  
> 
> **Please DO NOT repost my work anywhere, especially to sites like Goodreads. Thank you.**
> 
>  
> 
> Please DO read and enjoy and comment! I **love, love, LOVE** hearing from you! Cheers!

 

**_Do not go gentle into that good night..._**

 

“I’m here,” Loki had said, the barest hint of a heartfelt smile on his face, catching the bottle stopper Thor had thrown at him. 

He’d looked at Thor expectantly and, underneath the tiny smirk he wore, Thor could see an even tinier spark of hope, of longing maybe, for that promised hug. But Thor’s suddenly leaden feet refused to move, and he found that he couldn’t quite meet Loki’s eyes anymore. 

Then that glimmer of hope on Loki’s face vanished, stomped out with a ruthless ferocity as his jaw clenched. “Still can’t bring yourself to really touch me? Some things never change.”

“Loki...” Thor pleaded as Loki turned to leave.

“What?” Loki spat, like a hissing cat as he spun around to face Thor. “Apart from the odd ‘brotherly’ pat on the shoulder, or your hand around my neck – always tempted to crush it, no doubt – I am still deemed unworthy of your touch.” His anger emanated from him in waves, and every word he spoke was through clenched teeth: “Do you know that your old ‘get help’ manoeuvre was the closest you’ve come to holding me in your arms for over a _thousand_ years? What a joke! You who profess to care about me so much! I don’t know why I thought, for even a second, that both of us surviving Ragnarök would change that!" 

Thor’s breath shuddered out of him. “You don’t understand...”

“I understand well enough!” Loki bit out, stalking towards him, eyes blazing green fire, his rage so potent that it felt like a physical assault even though he didn’t touch Thor with the finger he pointed at him in accusation. “Tell me,  _brother_ , did you have an inclination that I was a Jötunn runt even when we were adolescents? Is that why it seemed like, one day, out of the fucking blue, that my skin turned into something abhorrent to you? Did you look at my lack of golden perfection and cerulean eyes and think me undeserving of your affection, your hugs, your kisses, your  _touch_?”

“No...”

“No? What was it then?” Loki taunted. “Was it because I showed an aptitude for harnessing my seiðr? Did you like most others think it unmanly of me? Is that why you and your warrior friends shunned me so suddenly? Wielding seiðr with skill is a woman’s dominion, is it not? Never mind that Odin was a skilled seiðmaðr himself! Even _he_ looked down on me for my skill, probably jealous because it surpassed his!”

“It was not like that,” Thor rasped, trying to swallow past the boulder that seemed to be lodged in his throat. 

“Oh, it was very much like that!” Loki snapped, his hurt –  _centuries_  worth of it – showing plainly in his eyes for perhaps the first time in their lives. “We went from sharing everything –  _everything!_  – to you shutting me out! Slamming the door in my face – _literally_ sometimes! – and going off with your golden Warrior friends, leaving me behind.  _Always_ leaving me behind.” Loki shook his head and held up his hand when Thor opened his mouth to speak. “You created this rift between us.  _You_. You started it. You pushed me away when I only ever wanted to be by your side! I thought the very sun rose and set with you and you could do no wrong in my eyes; you ruined it. You  _crushed_  me, Thor. And you didn’t even need Mjölnir to do it.” 

“Loki, I never meant...” 

“Do not insult my intelligence! You meant it. And then you had the audacity to look me in the eye and tell me it was my fault!” He brushed his hair out of his face as he stared Thor down. He inhaled; he exhaled; he quietened. “I’m done, Thor. I can’t do this anymore. I _won’t_. But I will make things plain, so even a dolt like you can understand. No lies, no subterfuge. Just the truth for once, not because I owe it to you but because I owe it to _me_ – the me that I used to be before...you changed me.”

It was as if Loki had gutted Thor with one of his favoured daggers; he cut Thor to the quick with the pain in his eyes.

“You wanted us to always fight together, side by side. You wanted us to be brothers again. You wanted me to ‘come home’. Sweet words, but meaningless when you can’t even bear to touch me unless we’re grappling and it’s to hurt me, to fight me, or if I’m _dying in your arms!_ ” Loki shouted, the veins in his neck bulging with the effort. He stopped, looking a little alarmed at himself, and he laughed humourlessly.  “Do you blame me for lashing out first? I wanted to hurt you so much for what you did to me in our youth, for no good reason I could ever fathom! I wanted you to  _pay_  for every day you shut me out of your life, for every night you shut me out of your rooms, for every conversation you stopped when I came near because you had joined your  _friends_  in their ridicule of me.  _When I did nothing wrong!_ ”  

Tears glistened in Loki’s eyes, and he dashed them away with a rough brush of his hand. “You were truly an exemplary brother.”

Thor ran a hand through his shorn hair. Loki’s rage was well deserved, and well-aimed; it was killing Thor, but he just stood there, unable to defend himself and unable to find any words that would make things better.  

How could he, when Loki was right about everything?

“This time, I thought... I  _felt_  a little of that old camaraderie, that familiarity we once had. What a fool I am. Still so hopeful for what I know to be hopeless.”

“There is hope, Loki, please don’t doubt that. You were not wrong about that – you came back for us...”

“I came back for  _you!_ ” Loki screamed, his face a rictus of fury even as tears filled his eyes again. “It’s  _always_  you! I feel like I could move mountains for you, such is the force of my hope, no matter how false it always turns out to be!” He stopped, drawing in a deep shuddering breath as he swiped a hand down his face. “Why did you do it? Just tell me once and for all! Why did you push me away all those years ago, Thor? I would just like to understand!" 

“I cannot say,” Thor told him, the words feeling useless and pathetic on his tongue. “You will hate me for it.”

Loki shook his head and scoffed. “Oh, that ship has already sailed. I do hate you. So much. _Still_. It is like a tidal wave in me, all-consuming, inescapable, and so fiery like it burns with the power of a thousand suns! And yet, underneath it all, it is totally eclipsed by how much I still  _love_  you!” 

A ragged sob tore its way out of Thor and he fell to his knees with the power of it.  

Loki was unmoved; when he spoke again, his voice was as cold as ice. 

“I will accompany you to Midgard and then we will part ways. You were right when you said our paths diverged a long time ago. They did; only they diverged long before your coronation.  _You_  set us on different paths in our youth and, every time I tried to converge them, you pushed me away. So now I will grant your most ardent wish: you will never see me again. I will take myself to the other end of the universe from you and give you the distance you have so greatly desired for centuries. For that is truly what  _you_  have always wanted, brother, not me.” 

With a final hateful – and  _tortured_  – glare at Thor, Loki walked away from him. 

If only Thor had known then that that would be his last chance to show his brother just how wrong he’d been, and just how much he was loved in return, Thor would’ve never let him go. 

Now, Loki would never know, and Thor would pay for his fallacy – and his cowardice – for the rest of his too-long life.

  

*** * ***  

****

_Though wise men at their end know **dark is right** ,_  
_Because their words had forked no lightning they_  
_Do not go gentle into that good night._

 

Thanos died at the hands of his daughter, the serene illusion of Titan he had been fooling himself with fading back into a scene of destruction and devastation once more. 

It was fitting, Thor thought, as he watched the Mad Titan choke on his final breath. Even though Thanos had heartlessly taken from Thor all that he had loved most (his people; his reason for living, his every hope for happiness, his  _Loki_ ), Thor conceded the final death-stroke to Nebula.  

She was a scintillating vision of rage as she killed him, all of it laser-focused on the monster she’d been forced to call her father.  

Carol’s assault had tired Thanos. Thor had used Stormbreaker to cleave the charred gauntlet, Infinity Stones and all, from Thanos’ hand and, with it, his arm from his body. Once it was gone, Nebula struck him down with her new vibranium blades, severing his giant head from his shoulders in one fell blow. She screamed herself hoarse and kept striking and slashing until she was bathed in his blood and Thanos’ body lay in pieces at her feet.  

His head had been unrecognisable. 

Nebula collapsed afterwards, like a puppet whose strings had been abruptly – and mercifully – cut. 

With everyone still frozen in shock and relief, no one went to her, so Thor offered her his hand; she took it and rose to her feet, shaky but stronger than she’d been before. 

  

*** * ***

 

They came back gradually, the ones who’d disappeared after the snap, reappearing through rips in space and time, like phoenixes rising from ashes.  

Those lost on Titan came back on Titan, and Stark was waiting for them. They’d taken the Guardians’ ship, and the  _Milano_ was ready to bring their lost ones back to Earth.  

The first to reappear had been the man who called himself Star Lord, still grieving his beloved; then his compatriots materialised. The wizard Strange, when he came back, told them that he sensed that Gamora was also alive somehow; she only needed to be found, and before it was too late and her soul was lost forever on the barren planet on which she was trapped. 

Star Lord –  _Quill_ – wanted to leave immediately, but Rabbit was still in Wakanda awaiting the restoration of young Tree, and Stark was waiting for the boy – the other Peter – whom he had taken under his wing. 

Thor watched as Tony had his AI assistant search the planet for lifeforms, even though he refused to move from the exact spot, he’d claimed, that Peter had fallen, turning to ashes in his arms. He had never before seen him so shattered, so focused in his distress, as if he could bring back the boy through sheer force of will. And considering he’d once witnessed him almost sacrifice his life to save Midgard from their own folly by guiding their missile to target the Chitauri mothership, Thor thought that Stark’s will was probably stronger that any of the iron suits he’d ever worn. 

When Quill was about to bring down the world with his screams to leave, joined now by Nebula who single-mindedly wanted only to save her sister, the boy reappeared. Tony fell to his knees in front of him, reaching out but not touching, as though afraid the young spiderling would disappear again.  

The boy blinked through his tears as he stared in wonderment at the man in front of him. “Mr. Stark?” 

It looked like all the breath in Tony’s body gusted out at the sound of the boy’s voice. “Pete...” 

“I know we don’t do hugs,” Peter croaked through his tears, looking relieved and hopeful and happy. “But can you make an exception this time? Please?” 

“For you, kid? Anytime,” Tony said, laughing, crying, overjoyed, and pulled the boy close, hugging his slender form to his iron chest at first, before his armour parted as if melting back into his body, and they hugged heart to heart.  

Thor was reminded of Loki in that moment, of how small he sometimes seemed when Thor used to hold him close. It pierced him like one of Hela’s blades, savage and malicious. But there was no time to dwell on his pain and loss, and soon they left the accursed Titan for the much blessed Wakanda.  

When they landed, Rabbit was still crying, tears matting furred cheeks, overwhelmed to be back with his Tree son, and threatening to put him into something called a wood chipper if he ever scared him like that again. The Guardians had their family back, though, and that was the important thing; only Gamora was left to be found. 

They headed for their ship and Vormir as soon as Rabbit and Tree joined them, Rabbit turning to Thor at the last minute to toss him something. 

“Back up,” he said, as Thor caught another eyeball in his hand, this one with a grey iris. “Just in case you lose the other one.” 

“Thank you, sweet Rabbit,” Thor said sincerely, holding out his hand to shake. Rabbit instead ducked his head under Thor’s open palm and, understanding in an instant, Thor gently stroked his head.  

“I hope that one day our paths will cross again,” he told him. 

Rabbit nodded, patting Thor’s knee with his paw. “I’ll keep in touch. Come on, Groot.”

“I am Groot?” Groot asked when Rabbit walked away; Thor shook his head. 

“I will not be alone. I have friends here.” 

“ _I_  am Groot.” 

“I’m sorry, too. I could not save my brother, my oldest friend, and my people. I will have to live that for the rest of my life.” 

“I am  _Groot_.” 

“Perhaps I did help save the universe, but I lost my whole world.” 

“ _I am Groot._ ” 

“I give you my word, Tree; I will not give up,” Thor promised, again holding out his hand. “Half of Asgard is somewhere out there still. I will find them even if it takes me a thousand years.” 

Groot clasped his hand, his bark rough but his hold gentle against Thor’s skin. From between their palms, the loveliest little white flower with a buttery yellow centre blossomed, so cheerful in the wake of the destruction and gloom that surrounded them; it was surely a sign of healing and better things to come, Thor thought. Groot plucked it from his body and presented it to Thor. “I am Groot.” 

Thor closed his fist around the bloom, careful not to crush it. “Thank you, my young friend. Farewell to you, too. Until we meet again!” 

 

When the  _Milano_ took off, Thor turned to Strange. The man met his gaze but his eyes were filled with regret.  

“I don’t see them,” he told Thor. “I don’t even  _sense_  them. Not your friend, nor your brother. I am truly sorry, Thor Odinson.” 

Thor drew in a shuddering breath, as tears filled his eyes; he merely nodded. 

“And my people? The ones who escaped?” 

“They are on their way back to you.”

 

*** * ***

 

The half of Asgard who’d been allowed to flee Thanos’ annihilation had escaped with the Valkyrie in the part of the _Statesman_ that detached from the rest of the Grandmaster’s giant ship to form its own vessel. At the time, when Thor thought they were all going to die at Thanos’ hand, he’d been glad to see them go with her. She would be a good leader, if she ever got out of her cups. At least she would lead them to relative safety if not ensure that they all stayed together. 

_Asgard is a people, not a place_ , his father’s words echoed in his head.It mattered not if those people were scattered across the universe as long as they were alive and safe.  

When the escaped ship landed on Midgard a few weeks later and his people slowly filed out, Thor was shocked when he really should have been anything but. They looked haggard and defeated, like the vaunted Æsir vitality and longevity were mere myth. 

He wondered if that’s how he looked to them; certainly, they looked as he felt: defeated even in victory. 

They still bowed before him; still entrusted him with their lives. It was humbling and he swore to himself that wouldn’t take it for granted ever again. 

The plan to stay on Midgard didn’t feel right anymore; Thor no longer felt moored on Earth. He had his friends and they might have wanted him to stay but, with the Avengers recovering and Carol promising to stay close for the foreseeable future, they didn’t really need him.  _His_  people did though and, after Thanos, they were scared and skittish of strangers. Unanimously, they voted to stay in space, to stay together as one, to stay with their King at the helm. 

Thor felt more of a sense of belonging with these few hundred Asgardians on board their battered ship than he’d ever felt, long before his hubris had seen him banished from his home all those years ago. It seemed an eternity since he’d had a much beloved brother, a mother and father who loved them both, and true and loyal friends whom he’d cherished for more than a millennium. 

 

When she saw the Asgardian refugee ship, worn and falling apart from their escape voyage, the Princess of Wakanda offered to help fix and fortify it for the onward journey.  

Thor gratefully accepted and watched her work tirelessly for almost a year, leading her team like a true queen, her intelligence and wit shining like a brilliant diamond. He couldn’t help but feel fond; she reminded him of what it felt like to have a younger sibling. So keen was he to recapture that feeling that, despite his pain, he found comfort in watching her work and laugh and tease her brother mercilessly and he  _ached_ in silence. 

Shuri outdid herself. She soon abandoned the idea of mere repair and designed and built them a flying fortress, a floating city like Asgard once was, but scaled down for their small number. The vessel was protected by vibranium shields and a multitude of blinking lights and contraptions that controlled everything from the sophisticated on-board weaponry to an exhaustive array of escape pods that easily jettisoned into space should their people ever need to escape a threat like Thanos again. It came equipped with swift two-person fighter jets, remote-controlled scouting drones, and the very best of on-board communications satellites. She took immense delight in showing the gadgets off to Thor and Valkyrie and whomever else of the Asgardians who’d wanted to learn about the ship.  

Thor was certain she made things as complicated as possible just to vex him. 

He couldn’t help but think how much Loki would like her. 

Stark joined them a few times, and always with Peter, who looked upon everything with wonder-filled eyes, while Tony gazed at him in much the same manner, as if he was still having trouble believing he was back. Peter was apparently almost as intelligent when it came to Midgardian technologies as Stark. In fact, he and Shuri soon became a force to be reckoned with, doling out mischief and trading banter and ideas with fervour as Tony and T’Challa watched with pride. Shuri insisted Thor have the best music on board the ship, and Peter put in all his favourite movies. Thor felt like a proud parent himself and, as long as they taught someone not him how to access those things, they could put whatever they wanted on the ship. 

Midway through the ship’s construction, Stark and Banner had huddled together working on ‘something special’. Thor only understood their machinations when he was given the first tour of the finished ship, when he stepped onto the bridge and placed his hand on one of the palm-print panels, which lit up the whole screen in front of him as a tinny voice greeted:  _Welcome Thor, Mightiest Avenger_. 

His eyes misted when Banner smiled at him, and Tony winked. He nodded his gratitude because his throat felt too tight to speak. 

He broke down and cried when he was left alone in his new private chamber for the first time. He’d shed tears before but this... 

This was an utter mental and physical breakdown, with deep shuddering sobs wracking his body, with guttural sounds so anguished clawing out of his chest, finally giving voice to how it felt having his heart so broken and his soul so shattered.  

It had come from nowhere. 

All he’d been doing was admiring the room’s understated elegance – a room fit for a King – when something gold glinted in his periphery. When he turned to look, he saw it, perched on a pedestal in a prominent corner of the room, in pride of place so it could always be seen no matter where Thor stood, shining like the day it had first been presented to Loki, curved golden horns gleaming even in the muted overhead lights, almost as if they were lit from within. 

Through a watery veil of tears, Thor stared at Loki’s helm all night.

  

*** * ***

  

Though his heart was heavy, Thor shed no tears when they left Earth.

It was hard to say goodbye, so he didn’t dwell on farewells. As long as he had their new ship, Shuri or Stark would always be able to contact him. If they ever truly needed his help, Thor would not hesitate to return with Stormbreaker. 

The _Valhalla_ , named thus to honour Asgard’s dead while it still housed the living, blazed through space. 

It could have been for minutes or millennia; time had lost all meaning to Thor. 

They stopped at friendly outposts to refuel both the people and the ship. 

They traded assistance from the god of Thunder and his mighty axe for food and supplies and knowledge.  

His people began to look hale and hearty once more, like the Asgardians of old. 

New friends made on their journey through space were sometimes welcomed into their midst, usually as a precedent to an impending marriage or adoption. 

Children ran amok all over the ship, their happy laughter soothing to the souls on board, while the adults indulged in drink and food and each other and made merry again. 

Thor found it a little easier to breathe but, in his head, he was still kneeling before his brother, spread-eagled and bound in twisted ensorcelled metal, his mouth barred from even screaming with grief as he watched Thanos kill the one person in existence whom he’d always loved most. 

The echoes of his own last words to Loki often haunted his dreams just as much as his waking moments: _You really are the worst brother._

  

*** * ***

 

For years, Thor tried desperately to find Loki. Had he found a way back from Death again? Norns knew that if anyone could do it, it was his brother. Had Loki come back already and then made good on his fateful last vow to Thor and hastened to the furthest reaches of the universe away from wherever Thor was?  

Or had he perhaps, still keeping that terrible promise, chosen this time to stay dead, and journey to a place where Thor could never follow except in death himself? And, if so, had he gone to Valhalla or Fólkvangr, Hel or Helgafjell? He couldn’t bear it if Loki had ended up – or choose to end up more likely, knowing Loki – in Hel; it’s bleakness would surely eat away at whatever light was left in Loki’s soul, and the mere thought of it pained Thor on a physical level. Surely, his brother would spare himself that fate? There was so much good in Loki, even if he kept it well hidden, and even when what he chose to reveal was not so good.  

Or maybe Loki wanted to come back but required a little help. If that was true, then Thor needed access to the Nine – no, _Eight_ – Realms to find out more about what happened in their lives after death. 

It was a good idea in theory but, even with Stormbreaker, he could not locate a way in to those places where the dead lived, nor could he find, in any of the places he’d looked, any knowledge of journeying there whilst still breathing. 

Loki would’ve known exactly where to look, or at least where to start looking.  

He’d probably known for centuries, such was the depth of his knowledge, the breadth of his intelligence, and the scope of his unquenchable thirst to always learn more. 

Thor was woefully inadequate in that respect, but he tried. He slept little, and every moment that wasn’t taken up by his duties as King, or in restless sleep, was spent in study. He read more texts on life after death than he’d ever read on any single subject before. 

He tirelessly journeyed to Vanaheim and Alfheim to philosophise with wizened clerics and strange mystics, maniacal soothsayers and talented sorcerers alike. 

He’d even tracked down a necromancer once, but that... _thing_...had been too demented to be coherent, let alone of any help. It was keeping someone hostage and killing them slowly, using the dying body for its nefarious divinations. Thor could not abide by it, so he called down his lightening and burned the creature from the outside in, killing it, and scorching and cleansing the land for miles. Unfortunately, any literary knowledge that the necromancer might’ve had in its hovel had also burned with it. 

He was unsuccessful in his quest to find a diviner powerful enough to see into Helgafjell, the Holy Mountain, a place where the dead could apparently continue to exist in the same way they’d done in the land of the living, if they so wished. This was where Thor imagined Loki would go if he was feeling benevolent towards himself in the afterlife; he liked the thought of his brother residing in chambers not unlike his old ones on Asgard, surrounded by tomes on magic and lore, parchment and quills and inkwells, and probably a laptop and smartphone as well, a tray of his favourite pastries and a pot of tea – infused with his preferred blend of sour red hibiscus and sweet scented jasmine – by his side, a cool breeze blowing through the balcony doors as he lounged around and watched the setting sun, as if waiting for Thor to join him. 

When Thor missed him so much that it caused him physical pain, that place was where he imagined Loki was spending his eternity, peaceful and happy and doing something he loved. It was a small comfort, and Thor tucked the image away into a corner of his mind, and it kept him sane. 

He travelled to Muspelheim, which was, as always, a flaming wasteland, once again ruled by Surtur, mellowed somewhat after Ragnarök, but still as dim-witted as ever. Unsurprisingly, even with the edge of Stormbreaker’s blade pressed to his throat, he had no useful knowledge to share. So, Thor took his crown again, cheerfully doing his part to keep the other Realms out of harm’s way now that Asgard was gone. 

Niflheim was freezing and bleak as ever and, though the path to Hel lay somewhere hidden within its boundaries, like Asgard had hidden the way to Valhalla, the passage was barred to Thor and his still-beating heart. 

Svartalfheim remained barren, the few Dark Elves left alive having long ago abandoned it, and only Eitri, King of the Giant Dwarves, remained on Niðavellir by his own choice.

In his desperation, Thor even journeyed to the desolation of Jötunheim.  

Most of Asgard’s immense stores of knowledge and history and lore had burned with the realm. Though, the more Thor thought about it, the more it occurred to him that much of Asgardian history had been rewritten to wipe out Hela’s existence and his father’s earlier bloodlust and warmongering. How much would he have been able to trust those sources even if they still existed? Then again, they were probably the same sources Loki had learned from in the past. But Loki was a lot more savvy about these things. He’d found the rips in space around Asgard that allowed him to travel between the realms without the benefit of the Bifrost; his knowledge over the centuries had been acquired from across and even further afield than the branches of Yggdrasil.  

Thor decided to follow his brother’s example, setting course for the rest of the universe, because though the branches of Yggdrasil spread wide, well beyond the reach of the other Realms lay vast stores of knowledge and many learned beings that could help in his quest.  

He may never find his brother, but he would also never stop searching.

  

*** * ***

  

The celebration of their first decade aboard the _Valhalla_ was both joyous and melancholy. Thor was in the midst of giving a rousing speech to his people when he was suddenly disturbed by a loud squalling. He ignored it – babies were babies, after all; crying was what they did – but every time he opened his mouth, the annoyed cries of an infant interrupted him, likely outraged that Thor was disturbing their peaceful slumber. 

The baby’s mother – Magna, Thor recalled – shushed the child, bouncing it up and down while she smiled apologetically at her King and tried to slink further into the shadows. 

Thor smiled and instead beckoned to her. She approached timidly with the wailing infant and gently placed it in his arms. 

“Is this your son or daughter?” he asked, deducing that the child must’ve been born while he’d been away from the ship, busy in his travels through the other Realms as he searched for answers to questions he didn’t even know to ask. 

“My son, your majesty; he is but six months old,” she answered tremulously. Thor wondered at her nervousness, for he was usually not greeted with such trepidation by his people. 

“What have you named him?” Thor asked softly, peeling back the swaddling cloths to better look at this newest of his people. 

The baby hiccupped when he saw Thor, his cries stopping abruptly, his little rosebud mouth opening in a tiny circle of wonder, his green eyes still brimming with tears. The baby blinked and fat tears spilled down his sweet chubby cheeks. Thor brushed them away with gentle fingers and smoothed down the baby’s shock of silky black hair, grinning helplessly down at his adorable face. It made him inordinately happy when the baby smiled back.  

He looked enquiringly at the infant’s mother when he realised that she hadn’t yet told him the baby’s name. 

She smiled up at him, sad and hopeful all at once. “Loki, your majesty,” she told him and Thor’s heart stopped mid-beat. “I named him Loki, because he reminded me of your brother. Black hair and green eyes? Also, I knew from the moment he was first placed in my arms that he would be a handful,” she said with a hesitant laugh. 

Thor struggled to remember how to breathe. 

“I thought it a fitting and fortuitous tribute to a fallen saviour and Prince of Asgard,” she continued hesitantly when Thor said nothing. “Was I wrong to do so, sire?” 

Tears pooled in Thor’s eye and, when he blinked, they splashed onto the baby’s cheeks; he brushed them away as well. Baby Loki gurgled and grabbed Thor’s finger in a tight grip; Thor allowed himself to be captured and stroked his tiny fist with his thumb; both he and the baby smiled.  

“No,” he said finally, his voice grating as if it hadn’t been used in a hundred years. “No, there is nothing wrong with honouring my brother. Indeed, you honour me and the House of Odin and Frigga when you honour him. It’s perfect.” Thor pressed the softest of kisses to the child’s cheek and returned him to his mother with a smile. “He’s perfect.” 

*** * ***

  

Thor met Rabbit and Groot – not Tree, he’d learned – at a conveniently situated space tavern every time their paths crossed; they were purportedly there to ‘shoot the breeze’ even though they’d never really ever shot at anything; they usually just gossiped. 

The other Guardians often joined them, more commonly either Drax or Mantis or both. They would regale him with stories of how they’d saved the galaxy again and Thor would tell them of how he and what was left of the Revengers had come to the rescue of people who’d reached out to them for help. Sometimes their stories were full of dark recollection and pain. During better times, they were...less dismal. 

Just another day in the lives of heroes. 

On a few memorable occasions, Nebula joined them and even Thor had a tough time dealing with the after-effects of  _those_  hangovers.  

Especially the time when Loki’s name came up – like it always did when Thor was deep in his cups – and Nebula casually mentioned knowing him. 

“You knew Loki?” Thor asked, sitting straight up, suddenly sober. 

“I knew  _of_ him more; I watched my father’s minions torture him; he was very resilient, that made their torture of him more... _more_ ,” she said, matter-of-fact in her drunkenness. “It was the Maw mostly, he stuck these thin glass needles into Loki – all over his body, his face – while Thanos talked and talked at him. It’s painful, that; excruciating. I’ve had it done to me, back when I was more flesh than metal. It’s horrible; it drives you mad in tiny increments. And Loki had no respite. The Maw is hideous. He’s the one who helped do this to me,” she said, holding out her arms, pointing to the metallic panels that covered her body. 

“Thanos had Loki?” Thor asked, his voice strangled and his heart beating fast. “When? For how long?” 

“Apparently, he’d fallen into the Void,” Nebula slurred. “And time doesn’t matter when the Black Order have you. A minute feels like a year. He told me – Loki did; we were in the neighbouring cells once – he told me that dark peoples had found him when he fell. I remember him calling them a brotherhood. Something like that. He tried to escape them but when they figured out his true identity, they traded him to Thanos.” 

“That was when he was given the Chitauri army.” 

“Yes, and The Other to spy on his every move.” 

Thor almost wished Thanos could be resurrected just so that he could rip him apart again. 

Since he couldn’t do that, he drank. He drank and he ached for his brother and what Loki had gone through before he’d arrived in New York. No wonder he’d looked so gaunt. No wonder he’d been so lost, so beyond reason, so _crazed_.  

It was a miracle that Loki had recovered some of his heart and humour when Hela and Ragnarök had come to claim Asgard. Perhaps those years spent as Odin on Asgard had healed him a bit. But what had Thor done when he’d found out? Accused him of running Asgard to ruin. Thor hung his head in shame. If only he’d been able to talk to his brother like they’d done when they were young. If only he’d had the strength to never push Loki away in their youth. If only Thor had shown him a little more love than whatever had been foremost in his mind at the time: his pride, his anger, his affection for his Midgardian friends, his grief at his mother’s death. 

Even when Odin died, Thor had been quick to blame Loki for it. That could have spiralled into the Norns knew what if Hela hadn’t shown up just seconds later. 

He  _should_ have leapt into the Void after Loki; that is what a good brother would have done. That is what he should have done considering how much he loved Loki. If there was to be torture, they could have endured it together; they could’ve have saved each other. 

When Thor was reunited with him once more, he was never taking Loki for granted again.

 

When he returned to the _Valhalla_ later, sober in more ways than one, it was not so difficult to seek Magna out. She was in the dining hall with her husband Björn and her surviving children Tove and Torsten, both of whom were still in their first few hundred years of life. They had all aged far more rapidly – as Thor likely had, too – without Idunn’s apples to rejuvenate them.

He felt awkward for asking but didn’t have to in the end; Magna merely smiled at him, rising from the table to deposit her baby son into her King’s waiting arms. Loki – _Loki_ – was asleep but he must have been having happy dreams because he smiled, two tiny baby teeth on display. His little body fit perfectly into the crook of Thor's arm, and he could smell his milky sweetness and the gentle scent of lavender oils from his bathwater. He couldn’t help but lean closer to better breathe him in. Little Loki stirred then, woken by the brush of Thor’s beard, and he blinked sleepily, disoriented until he saw his King.

He cooed softly in what Thor would only ever believe was instant recognition.

His chubby little hand immediately fisted around a lock of Thor’s hair and he tugged as he furiously pumped his arms and legs in excitement. Thor could not help but chuckle and, with Magna’s permission, he walked with her baby to the closest viewport, greedy to horde Loki’s sweet smiles and sounds to himself as he propped him up to show him the galaxy outside. 

Loki looked for a moment, his tiny mouth rounding in wonderment, but his gaze was much more diverted in staring up at Thor. 

As Thor marvelled at the stars reflected in his big green eyes, he could not help but think that, in another dimension, in another time, perhaps this child would be Loki’s son. For he was sure Loki’s son would look just like this, the very picture of his father. He would then be his favourite uncle, Thor thought, a wide smile growing on his face that the babe in his arms mirrored. It was a good dream to have: Thor would have worked so hard to win his favour; he would’ve spoiled him and indulged his every whim where his father would be the stick in the mud, always wanting him to be prim and proper and perfectly behaved even though Loki himself had been only two of those three things growing up. 

How Loki would hate him for it: making his child as impossible and rambunctious as Thor had ever been. 

How Loki would love him for it: accepting his son in ways that he had not felt accepted himself. 

Thor could not help but smile at the thought and his mind, so clouded by grief at what Nebula had told him, finally calmed a touch. The pain he felt never diminished but, when he held this new little Loki in his arms, he could, for a time...forget.

 

*** * ***

  

“Up!” A little voice demanded imperiously of Thor when he stood in line to serve his meal in the ship’s dining hall. Small hands tried searching for something to tug at and cling to but came up empty against the tight leathers of Thor’s attire. 

“Now, Loki, you cannot ask the King to carry you every time you see him!” Magna chastised the boy as she finally caught up with him. Loki refused to heed his mother and instead glommed onto Thor’s leg, plopping his little bottom onto Thor’s booted foot as he sunk down. The boy, now three years old, stared up at Thor, imploring him with shining green eyes and a soulful expression that made Thor want to give him the universe on a platter. 

He chuckled and bent to lift Loki into his arms, his heart wrenching when the child snuggled into him, tucking his head into the space between Thor’s chin and chest, and twisting a lock of Thor’s hair around his finger. 

“Have you eaten, Magna?”  

“No, sire; I just finished feeding him before he spotted you and took off like a little lightning bolt.” 

“Go eat, then,” he urged gently. “Speak with your husband and your other children. I’ll keep this brat occupied for a while.” 

“Sire...”

“It’s no trouble, Magna; it’s my pleasure.” 

Magna sighed and smiled. “He is always so thrilled to see you, your majesty.” 

“I think it’s the hair,” he quipped, and laughed when Loki gave the lock of Thor’s hair wound around his tiny fist a hard tug. 

  

It soon became a common and happy sight to see Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, mighty god of Thunder, being chased around his ship by a toddler who had him well and truly wrapped around his chubby little finger. ~~~~

  

*** * ***

  

Another time when he met the Guardians, Rabbit had lost a leg and there was a new Groot with him, this one no bigger than the span of Thor’s hand. Mantis was the only one of the three who didn’t look battle-worn. 

“I am  _Groot_ ,” Baby Groot chirped. 

“Saving the Galaxy  _is_  hard,” Thor agreed, stroking a finger down his soft-barked cheek. He looked over at Rabbit and Mantis. “I’m sorry you lost your friend.” 

“At least he keeps growing back,” Rabbit said.  

Mantis nodded. “It never feels like they’re different Groots even though they are.” 

“Hmm. What happened to you, Rabbit?” 

“I was trying to get the guy shooting a death-ray at me to aim for my eye so I could match you,” Rabbit drawled with a smirk. “He missed. I didn’t.” 

Thor chuckled, pointing at the metal contraption attached to Rabbit’s foot. “That seems like too rudimentary a replacement for one so skilled in mechanics as you. I would’ve thought you had a collection of spare appendages to choose from.” 

“None that fit  _me_. Besides, Quill wants to swing by Earth soon, so I’m gonna get some of that vibranium from Princess Shuri. Make it myself.” 

“Ah, that would indeed make a sturdy limb worthy of you.”  

“You know me so well, Thor.” Rabbit grinned and patted his arm. “So, how’ve you been?” 

Thor shrugged, swallowing his discomfort. “Existing,” he said finally. 

“And how’s that working out for you?” 

“As well as can be expected.” 

“So not at all, but you’re a god so you keep keepin’ on. If I had a hat, I’d take it off to you, my friend.” 

“I am Groot.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we all know how your kind feel about hats,” Rabbit told him. Then something caught his eye that had him nudging Thor excitedly. “Hey, Thor, check it out.” 

Thor took a swig of his mead and pushed a bowl of brightly coloured sweets closer to Groot after taking a few for himself. “Check what out?” he asked with his mouth full. 

“Two o’clock.” 

“You wish to know the time, Rabbit?” 

Rabbit rolled his eyes. “No, doofus. Check out the hottie over there by the bar.” 

“Hottie?” 

“The beautiful female standing by the bar,” Mantis explained in a faraway voice. “She’s been watching you for the past fifteen minutes. I think...no, I _know_ she wants you.  _Sexually_.” 

Thor choked on his drink. “Er...”

Rabbit laughed and thumped Thor on the back. “Er...what?” he asked. “She’s hot. You’re hot. You should go, be hot together. At least try your luck!” 

“He will not need luck,” Mantis assured them.  

“I am  _Groot_.” 

“Girls are not icky,” Rabbit scolded him, as he elbowed Thor. “Go on. Maybe a little nookie will make you feel good.” 

“No,” Thor said, the very thought of being intimate with another person making his stomach turn. “I’m not yet ready to share myself with someone.” 

“You’ll probably never even see her again, you know. Once and done,” Rabbit reasoned. “Don’t tell me you didn’t make the tavern rounds on Asgard.”

Thor frowned. “No, I did. I indulged in pleasures of the flesh many times. On many realms.” 

“So what then? You still hung up on that chick from Earth?” 

“Jane? No, I have not had any romantic inclinations towards her for a long time, since years before Ragnarök even. She is but a dear friend.” 

“What about Val? Anything there?” 

“Valkyrie?” Thor snorted. “Not that I have ever felt more than great admiration for her, but she will kill me and gut me like a fish if I even _think_ about bedding her.” 

“Yeah,” Rabbit agreed with a heartfelt sigh. “She’s pretty awesome.” 

“She is very beautiful and desirable,” Mantis agreed sagely. “Even Drax agrees and Drax thinks everyone is ugly.” She quietened, a faraway look in her black eyes. She sighed. “He still thinks I am ugly.” 

“You are beautiful and he is a fool!” Thor argued, but it did little to mollify Mantis. “I think of Valkyrie only as an excellent friend and confidante, a worthy warrior and a hero of Asgard.” 

“That’s too bad,” Rabbit said, bopping Thor lightly on the chin with his tiny paw. “I just think if you had someone special, maybe you’d feel better. And not so lonely.” 

“I had someone special. He died. Better to be alone than lose someone so precious to me again. Not that anyone could be as precious to me as...” Thor sighed and sipped his mead. “Better to be alone.” 

“That’s not very healthy, mentally speaking,” Rabbit said as he and Mantis exchanged a loaded look. 

“In my mind, in my heart, in my _soul_ , there is only Loki. Until that is no longer true, I cannot be with anyone else. It would not be fair to them.” 

“Will that ever not be true?” Mantis asked. 

“It has been true for the past fifteen hundred or so years of my life. I have never known an existence where that has not been true. I can’t imagine it will be so anytime soon.” 

Rabbit sighed, gently tapping his paw on the knuckles of Thor’s closed fist. “But Loki was your brother. This is different.” 

Thor shook his head. “Loki is my everything.” 

Rabbit and even Mantis looked stumped at that, but Thor just shrugged it off. It was difficult to make others understand that he could not so easily sweep away the memories of well over a thousand years spent together. 

Groot’s response to the lull in conversation was a huge yawn that had all of them yawning a few seconds later. “I think that’s our cue to call it a night,” Rabbit said. 

Thor agreed, standing to walk them back to their ship. “Give my best to the Avengers when you return to Earth, my friends.” 

“We will,” Rabbit assured him, giving him another eye; this one with a violet iris. “This is my best one yet. You take care of yourself, buddy.” 

Thor thanked him, petted him, and promised he would. 

“I am  _Groot_.” 

“I’ll miss you too, sweet baby Tree.” Thor replied, grinning when Groot jumped on his shoulder and tried to hug his head. When his little arms didn’t quite reach all the way around, he just grew them longer, and the small flower that bloomed from his tiny hand – pink this time – was woven into a lock of Thor’s long hair. 

Baby Groot really was the cutest, Thor thought, rubbing the soft petals of the flower between his fingers.  

Mantis, when she said goodbye, accidentally touched him. She gasped in horror, her antennae glowing blindingly bright as she recoiled like she’d been burned. She collapsed at his feet.  

It took them an hour to revive her and, when she woke, her obsidian eyes were glossy with unshed tears.  

“How do you bear _so_ much pain and loss?” she asked in a strangled whisper. 

Thor thought of his brother and said: “With love. And _hope_.” 

 

*** * ***

 

When Loki turned seven he stopped chasing Thor around the  _Valhalla_  and demanded piggy-back, or shoulder, or horsey rides instead. Quill and Gamora’s five-year old twins, Hawke and Kitt, had taught Loki a whole host of mischievous things that the impressionable youngster thought were the best things in the world. Things like ‘blowing raspberries’, armpit farts, something called the ‘truffle shuffle’, and tickle fights. In the absence of Loki’s much older siblings Tove and Torsten, Thor was his primary target.

One thing of Quill’s that Thor did not mind, however, was his music. Thor liked it so much that Rabbit crafted a player for him, much like the one that belonged to Quill. He liked it because he could stick the hearing buds in his ears and carry it around with him, unlike Shuri’s more complicated technology on board the ship. 

When he first heard it, it took him about thirty seconds to adopt the Zeppelin of Led’s _Immigrant Song_ as his anthem, it suited him so well. Perhaps these Midgardian minstrels had had ancestors who’d once been of Asgard.  

Another of Thor’s favourites was The Cure’s _Lovesong_ ; it didn’t really cure what ailed him, so that was a bit of false advertising, but he didn’t mind that the laid-back beat stuck in his head. 

When he lay in bed though, alone and in the dark, when sleep evaded him, and he spent hours watching the stars outside his viewport reflected in Loki’s golden helmet, it was only the _Unchained Melody_ of the Righteous Brothers that he listened to on repeat. The tender crooning and simple yet striking lyrics spoke to Thor’s heartache and were like his own personal nightly prayer to the Norns. The fact that it was sung by brothers to one another soothed him, like they knew what was in Thor’s heart of hearts, like they understood his loneliness, because their longing for each other echoed his yearning for Loki: a lonely river flowing to find the open arms of the sea. 

On those nights, he hugged a pillow close, hungering for Loki’s touch even as he pretended that his brother slept in his arms, alive and safe and not angry with him. Thor succumbed to exhausted slumber as he spoke softly to Loki, wherever he might be: _Wait for me, brother: I’ll be coming home...wait for me._

 

*** * ***

  

The first time Thor Bifrosted to Jötunheim with Stormbreaker, he landed in a vast frozen tundra. It was bitterly cold, for he was caught in the midst of a blizzard, and he could see nothing but white for miles. He pulled his furs closer around his body and began walking. 

When he’d journeyed for miles without seeing another living soul, and considering he was about to turn into and Æsir icicle, he Bifrosted out. 

The second time he touched down in Jötunheim, he was closer to a mountain range. Again, all he could see was a frozen wasteland. So, he lifted Stormbreaker and flew, rising higher, and getting colder as he went. He saw animals this time, ones he did not recognise, but he ignored them. He couldn’t see anything worth exploring further from even the mountaintops, so he flew back down, found a cave hidden in a crag and took shelter there. 

He returned to that cave many times over the years to sit in the cold, clear his mind of his daily troubles, and remember Asgard, his friends, his parents, and Loki. He relived some of the best memories of his childhood in that cave, and it soon became a sanctuary of sorts. 

It was where he went when he needed to feel close to Loki. 

When he returned the third time, the weather was finally favourable enough to see into the distance. He took Stormbreaker and flew towards the spires that he knew marked the palace at Útgarð. 

He landed in front of a small infantry of about fifty giant Jötnar warriors, and not one looked pleased to see him. Unsurprising, Thor mused, considering their last encounter with him. They let their spears fly at him before he could speak and he was forced to defend himself. Hurting them was unavoidable, but he let them all live. 

They were no cowards, though, and they still stood to fight him with what little strength they had left. He called down a massive bolt of lightning to quiet their battle cries. 

“I only wish to speak to your new king!” he roared. 

One Jötunn, big and battle-scared came forward. “You think that we will serve him to you on a platter?” 

“I do not wish to kill any of you,” Thor told them. “You know as well as I do by now that my brother Loki is your rightful King. I just wish to speak to the one who rules in his stead.” 

“So your brother can usurp him?” 

“Loki is dead,” Thor told them, his voice ragged as he said the words. 

“Is that true?” Another Jötunn asked. 

Thor peered closely at him; he reminded Thor a little of Laufey in appearance. “You are the new King?” 

The Jötunn looked taken aback. He darted a quick look to the one who had spoken before and they had a short, silent conversation that involved only their facial expressions. They were close, Thor reasoned, to communicate without words; brothers, probably, based on the similar markings across their foreheads and cheeks. 

“I am Helblindi,” the slightly larger giant said. He pointed at his compatriot. “This is my brother, Býleistr. We are Laufey’s sons and, you are right, I am King now.” 

“I have not come to start a war,” Thor told him. 

Býleistr snorted. “That’ll be a first.” 

Thor nodded, conceding the point with a sheepish smile. “I was young and stupid then. I know better now.” 

“So why have you come, oh old and wise one?” Býleistr asked mockingly. 

Helblindi huffed, glaring at his brother. “Can you not provoke the _one_ Æsir warrior who almost took out all of us like he was swatting flies and not fighting Jötnar _giants?_ ” 

“I was taking it easy on you, too,” Thor bragged with a smirk, mostly directed at Býleistr.

“Enough of this,” Helblindi snapped. “Why are you here?” 

“I wish to have access to your libraries, if you please.” 

Helblindi looked shocked, the same as the majority of his soldiers behind him, and Býleistr’s jaw actually dropped. “You want our... _library?_ ” 

“What new scheme is this?” Helblindi demanded angrily. “Speak plainly! You wish to gain access to our palace at Útgarð in some bid to overthrow me and conquer Jötunheim once and for all!” 

“For what purpose?” Thor challenged. “I am not my father. Asgard is destroyed as you will have heard. Neither I nor my people wish to return to make a home once again beneath the branches of Yggdrasil.” 

“Never?” Býleistr asked in surprise. 

“Never,” Thor confirmed. “My people are currently on the other side of the universe. I have travelled here alone.” 

“And you admit that so freely?” Helblindi asked. 

“I told you,” Thor said. “I took it easy on you. I no longer have enmity with Jötunheim; I will not bring harm to my brother’s legacy.” 

“He made no claim to this ‘legacy’ when he was alive, what care have you for it now that he is dead?” 

“I care for anything that will connect me to him,” Thor admitted. The quiet conviction with which he said the words had the brothers looking at each other again, a silent communication to which Thor was not privy. 

“If you mean us no harm,” Helblindi finally said, “then return the Casket of Ancient Winters to us as a gesture of your goodwill.” 

Thor shook his head. “It was destroyed, along with everything else on Asgard. Surtur razed it all to nothing.” 

Helblindi swore in an ancient Jötnar tongue that Thor could not decipher, but his tone was a universal one of frustration and anger. 

“Why have you come? Truly?” Býleistr asked, likely more to quell and distract Helblindi’s imminent rage. 

“For knowledge.” 

“From our libraries?” 

“Aye. Loki was killed, by Thanos’ hand. The very one which wielded the Infinity Gauntlet.” 

The entire troop of grizzled Jötnar warriors gasped as one. 

“We only knew of Thanos gaining the Stones’ power when we lost our people to ashes. But then they came back,” Býleistr told him. 

Thor nodded. “When Thanos himself was killed.” 

“Was it you who killed him?” Helblindi asked, calmer now, and intrigued at the prospect of news from beyond their realm. 

Thor shook his head. “There was another who deserved that honour more. But I did cut off the hand he used to kill my brother,” he said, his voice strangled. 

The brothers exchanged another look of understanding. “So what does this have to do with our libraries? Our knowledge?” 

“Loki is one of you...” 

“Was. He _was_ one of us,” Býleistr said, as if Thor would ever need reminding. 

Helblindi sighed. “Bý, don’t help.” 

“He’s come back from the dead before,” Thor told them. 

“ _What?_ ” Býleistr asked, shocked. “What sort of sorcerer was he?” 

“A very powerful one,” Thor said. “And he had more than a millennia worth of knowledge that he’d amassed from across the universe.” 

Helblindi shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what you Æsir do to pass the time, but we have no knowledge of that sort of sorcery here.” 

Thor’s shoulders slumped, as if crushed beneath the weight of his disappointment. 

The Jötnar seemed to know not how to respond to that and they all stood around awkwardly until Thor drew in a deep breath and reclaimed his regal bearing. 

Helblindi stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “We have been without the Casket for too long; we fell to ruin a long time ago; our lands lie fallow. We used to have some green pastures, some life out there on the banks of the River Ífing; now we have a cold to rival that on Niflheim. What little was left of the great Jötunheim of old, our father ran into the ground with his greed and lust for power.”

“Tell me about it,” Thor muttered. “My father hid from us the existence of his firstborn, our older sister, Hela, the vile, vicious, bloodthirsty bitch.” 

“Like father, like daughter,” Býleistr sneered. His brother swatted him in the arm, and Thor didn’t have the energy to argue that fact, so he let it slide. 

“Our father hid from us the existence of _his_ firstborn as well,” Helblindi said with a pointed look. 

They stared at each other for a few seconds before collapsing to the snow in snorting laughter, the Jötnar soldiers looking at them in horror, as if they’d all lost their collective minds. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know Laufey well enough to comment on any similarities with Loki,” Thor admitted, “but Loki was definitely better looking.” 

“I think ‘vile, vicious, bloodthirsty bitch’ would accurately describe our dam as well,” Býleistr said with a smirk. “And since your brother killed him, I’d say that was an apt description of him too.” 

Thor couldn’t help the fond smile on his face. “Except for the vile part. Loki has very high standards, even when it comes to wreaking havoc: it’s always done with finesse and a flair for the dramatic.” 

“Yes, I’m sure his victims feel exactly that. Just before they die horrible deaths,” Býleistr drawled. 

Thor grinned, and then hurriedly suppressed a shiver. “Norns, it’s cold here!”

“We can offer you shelter, and share a meal,” Helblindi offered, somewhat tentatively though his tone was strong. “But not in Útgarð.” 

Thor nodded in understanding; they had no reason to trust him. “I will thank you for your hospitality then, and receive it as you see fit.” 

Helblindi stood, holding out a hand to Thor. Thor took it – pleased when the new Jötunn King did not freeze his skin – and rose to his feet. They clasped hands for a few seconds more, Thor’s dwarfed in Helblindi’s gigantic grip, and the look exchanged between them spoke volumes: neither of them wanted a fight. 

“You are a strange one, Odinson; you are not as you were when you first came here and fought my father,” Helblindi said finally. “But I think I speak for my people when I say that we no longer seek war. Asgard has fallen. Our long-dead kin were the ones who wished for that most fervently. We are...indifferent. However, you saved your people, at the cost of Asgard itself, and I can admire that. I cannot offer you friendship, but I can offer you...a path to peace.” 

“I gratefully accept,” Thor told him. He swallowed past the emotion welling in his chest, and hoped that somewhere, Loki was at least a little proud of him and his newly honed skills in diplomacy, something his brother had been trying to teach him for centuries. “I can perhaps also help with changing your weather if you would permit me.” 

Helblindi frowned. “Changing the weather? What do you mean?” 

“I am the god of Thunder; I can control storms,” Thor told them with a shrug. “Perhaps you could use some rain to melt the snow and ice and encourage your lands to regain some of their lost fertility? Which I am also the god of, by the way. I don’t know how well it will work but I am willing to try. We can test a small area near Ífing to start with and move on from there.” 

Helblindi and Býleistr’s jaws dropped, and the rest of the Jötnar looked just as stunned. 

Býleistr was the first to recover. “You would do that? For us?” 

“In exchange for your knowledge? Yes,” Thor told them sincerely; then he sighed. “Even if it is of no help to me. I would help my brother’s people.” 

“He has never laid claim to Jötunheim,” Helblindi reminded him. 

“He did with his dying words,” Thor told him. “I will honour that claim.” 

The brothers had another wordless conversation but it was Býleistr who finally spoke.  “It’s not like my brother and I are great readers, but I will look. Talk to our mystics, see if there is anything of value. You may return at a mutually agreed time in the future and I will tell you what I have learned.”

Helblindi nodded in agreement. “If your weather-changing is successful, it may earn you the right to enter Útgarð and see our libraries for yourself.”

“Thank you,” Thor said, relieved. “I am in your debt.” 

 

Býleistr kept his word, and Thor went back several times after that, even after Býleistr had imparted all the knowledge he’d gained from their limited resources. Unfortunately, nothing came from their search of ancient Jötunn texts. But, over the years, Thor found that the peace Helblindi and Býleistr had first offered him led them also on a path to friendship.

 

*** * ***

 

 

 


	2. Bright

****

_Good men, the last wave by, crying how **bright**_   
_Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,_   
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

 

 

Twenty years was a long time to spend on a ship.  

It did not matter how often they stopped or for how long; eventually the Asgardians – Thor amongst them – began craving the sight of green fields and orchards bursting with fruit, wildflower meadows and snow-capped mountains, rivers filled with fish and pastures dotted with livestock, dark mystic forests and the beasts that dwelled within them.  

Finding such a place was not easy, but the crew of the  _Valhalla_  never stopped looking for it. 

The first family who asked to stay behind on one of their supply stops was happy to settle for green fields and access to livestock. The next small group of people decided to inhabit an oasis on a desert planet. A few others followed but most opted to stay, scouring the galaxy for a suitable new home that they could settle into all together, and without resorting to battle. 

Thor bade those who left farewell but made sure they knew that they were always welcome to return, and that they were of Asgard no matter what planet they chose to call home.

  

*** * ***

  

It struck Thor one day when Loki was ten. The boy became so exasperated at Thor’s gentle teasing that he suddenly looked like a little clone of his brother at the same age. He no longer was just a little boy who shared his brother’s name; no, now he was the very image of Thor’s Loki.  

The realisation shook Thor to his core. 

Minutes later, he took Stormbreaker and summoned the Bifrost to Midgard. 

He should not have been, but he was shocked that the Avengers had aged so much in such a short time span: Stark looked good for his age – he told Thor that perhaps his health had somehow been boosted by his old arc reactor; Strange looked the same; Banner looked grizzled and the Hulk was older but only slightly wiser; Shuri and T’Challa had aged most gracefully, as was the way for all Wakandans. 

Some of his old friends had fallen in battle and he grieved them. 

Some of the Avengers he had never met before.  

He smiled when he saw Tony, with Pepper on one side, loving and weary and indulgent, and Peter on the other, still looking up to him as he’d always done, with stars in his eyes. He found Jane and Darcy, for Tony had kept an eye on them for him. Erik had only recently died, and he’d lived for a little longer than a century; Thor was sad to have missed saying one last farewell to his old friend. Both women, though, had families of their own. They were happy and, in the end, that was all that mattered. 

All his friends were pleased to see him, but it was not the same as it had once been.  

If he had felt unmoored on Midgard before, now he could not help but feel a little unwelcome.  

After he left that time, Thor never returned to Earth again.

  

*** * ***

  

Thor could not escape Loki. Not even on a ship the size of the  _Valhalla_.  

Everyone saw the resemblance now, and it was an unspoken thing in Thor’s presence; what they said about it in his absence, he did not know. The consensus from Loki’s parents, the Æsir ancients amongst them who’d seen hisLoki grow from babe to boy to man before, and anyone else who remembered his brother at that age, was that Loki, Prince of Asgard and god of Mischief, had somehow found a way to be reborn. 

It was a fact that Thor would eventually need to consider himself: he had prayed to have his brother returned to him, but he’d meant for it to be as Loki had been before he’d lost him, the Loki he’d shared over a millennium of memories with, not this child who looked at Thor like a benevolent King and did not recognise him. 

It was difficult and easy, and heartbreaking and healing all at once. 

It made Thor’s waking moments an agony sometimes, just the same as it made it joyful. He really was the sweetest child; how Thor wished he could turn back time and relive these years with his brother all over again, just so he would know not to take any of these precious moments for granted. 

So Thor did what he needed to do to keep himself sane, and it was only Loki who did not understand why he made excuses to no longer spend time with him anymore. 

Thor realised that he was not the only one hurting when he stumbled across the little boy in a corner of the ship’s meagre library, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve as he sat in the viewport seat, a book open but ignored in his lap. 

“Loki?” 

The boy startled. “Your majesty!” 

“What’s the matter? Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?” The very thought that someone may have hurt him, with words or with deeds, made Thor’s blood boil. 

Loki stared him, searching his face for answers to questions only he knew. 

“You did,” he said finally, his voice a mere whisper. 

Thor, who had been kneeling before him, almost fell on his arse with how fast he tried to back away. 

“I have done nothing to you, Loki. I would never!” 

Loki’s jade eyes filled with tears. “You don’t talk to me anymore.” 

“Oh...” 

“You turn away when you see me coming!” 

“I don’t!”  

He did. 

“Liar!” The boy sobbed like his heart was breaking. “What did I do to make you not love me anymore?” 

Pain reminiscent of what he’d felt when he’d last seen his brother stabbed him in the heart. He pulled Loki into his lap and they sat like that, Loki’s small arms wrapped tight around Thor’s neck like he was never planning to let go.  

“I will always love you,” Thor told him in a voice ravaged by anguish. “Never doubt that, Loki.” 

Thor rubbed his back to soothe him but it was an hour before Loki’s sobs subsided and he fell into a quiet and exhausted sleep. 

That was how Magna found them. “Sire?” 

“He’s well,” Thor assured her. “Just angry with me for ignoring him.” 

Magna smiled sadly. “He’s been complaining to me for a while now.” 

“It won’t happen again.” 

“Sire...” Magna sighed. “He is the very picture of your brother at that age.” 

“Aye,” Thor acknowledged, brushing back the sweaty hair from Loki’s face. “He could be my brother’s twin; they are identical.” 

“But...how can that be?” Magna asked, looking shocked to hear him admit it out loud. She sat on the floor next to him and gently stroked Loki’s hand.  

“He is a changeling child.” 

“Yes!” Magna exclaimed softly, nodding like it was not the first time she’d considered the idea. “I thought that at first. But lately, I have often wondered if he really is even truly mine.” At Thor’s stunned look, she shook her head, rephrasing: “I birthed him, of course I did. But, in my heart, something tells me that I lost my own son that day, only I was spared the heartache and given Loki instead.” She pressed a soft kiss to her sleeping child’s hand. “I feel like he is my true son and, yet, he is not. I don’t understand it.” 

“Do you love him?” Thor asked. 

“More than my life, as I love all my children,” she stated with fierce conviction. 

“Then that is all that matters.” Thor sighed. “The Norns weave our fates in mysterious, and sometimes devious ways. There is nothing to understand more than that; it just is.  _He_  just is,” Thor told her softly, his hand moving to cradle Loki’s head in comfort when the boy whimpered. “He is a blessing and you –  _we_  – are lucky to have him. I will not forget that again.” 

 

*** * ***

 

On Knowhere once, years later, Thor was gravely harmed in an ambush attack. Someone had poisoned his drink in a crowded tavern; he fell before he could even take a second sip. 

It turned out to be a small militant faction of dark elves, once disciples of Malekith. None were left alive by Valkyrie. He was transported back to the  _Valhalla’s_  healers but even the combined strengths of their seiðrs couldn’t stop him from falling into a toxic slumber so deep that it felt like death had finally come for him.  

Sometimes his conscience would stir as if beckoned by a soft voice calling him back from the dark. 

Tempting as it was to wake to that voice, Thor slept on because perhaps trapped in the vast darkness as he was, so close to death, he might finally find who he was looking for. 

But the places of the dead still forbade him entry and so he just floated, in mysterious limbo. 

When he could no longer bear the loneliness, he woke; the first person he saw was Loki. He was older now, taller, caught in that nebulous span between boy and man, aging as one would on Midgard, because they had all been without Idunn’s apples for far too long. Loki was asleep in a chair by Thor’s bedside, ever-present book open and face down on his stomach, his hand – still small – in Thor’s as he dozed. 

Thor squeezed his hand gently and Loki startled awake. He looked shocked and thrilled and tripped and fell twice before he made it out the doors to get help. 

Thor was surprised to find Groot and Rabbit enter the room with the healers. 

“As if we wouldn’t come as soon as we heard,” Rabbit told him. “Besides, did you know that Groot can grow all sorts of flowers? Like the ones your healers needed to counteract that poison in you? No? Well, now you do.” 

“ _We_  are Groot,” Groot said. 

Thor nodded his thanks gratefully.  

Groot left him a whole bunch of those blood-red blooms when he and Rabbit left. Thor gave most of them to the healers. He kept one for himself, in the journal where he had pressed all the flowers Groot had given him over the years, and the last one, he gave to Loki. 

“I thought you’d never wake up,” Loki told him, sounding a lot older than his fifteen years as he cradled the flower in his palm like he was holding something beyond precious.  

“I thought so too,” Thor said with a rueful smile.  

“The healer, Astrid...” 

“What about her?” 

“She’s an Ancient One, right? Kin to Heimdall? She’s really thousands of years old?” 

“She is; she is Heimdall’s great aunt,” Thor confirmed. “She was old when _I_ was your age.” 

Loki looked out of the viewport, his finger absently connecting the dots with the stars outside. “She says I look exactly like your brother.” 

Thor swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “Aye, you do.” 

“You loved him very much, she said.” 

“I love him still. There are no words in existence to describe how much; my love for him is eternal, infinite. And even that is not enough to convey how much I loved him all my life, and how much more I love him now that he is no longer in my life.” 

Loki looked at him, eyes fathomless with the depth of his misery. “Does that make you hate me?” 

“Never,” Thor told him, in a voice made harsh with conviction. He grabbed Loki’s chin and made sure the boy heard him. “ _Never_.” 

Loki flung himself at Thor, hugging him as hard as he could, trying to get as close as possible, his ear pressed over Thor’s beating heart.  

After an age, he said in a ragged whisper: “I don’t ever want you to look at me if it breaks your heart.” 

“My heart was broken a long time ago,” Thor told him and he gently stroked Loki’s soft hair. “Looking at you mends it, just a little bit every time.” 

Loki looked up at him, startled but so pleased. “Truly?” 

Thor smiled down at him and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head. “Truly,” he lied.

  

*** * ***

  

Thanos’ decimation of Xandar had been of its people, not of the place itself and certainly not of the vast stores of knowledge they had amassed over the years. It took a long time, but the bare bones of the Nova Corps were eventually reinstated. It would take centuries to regain their previous numbers but rebuilding had to start somewhere. 

The planet itself was beginning to recover though, even if its people hadn’t. It made Xandar prone to attack from hostile forces for it had an abundance of natural and technological resources. Thor was called in to aid the Guardians in fending off many an attack there, the most recent being from a Ba-Bani army intent on claiming what was left of Xandar for themselves.  

It felt good calling down his lightening again, to have an outlet for the rage that was his constant companion since seeing his brother’s neck snapped like a twig in Thanos’ meaty fist.  

Stormbreaker sung in his hand, a song stronger and louder than Mjölnir’s had ever been, but it resonated the same to Thor, a powerful melodic crescendo to accompany the slaying of their enemy. 

In his head, he heard the _Song of Immigrants_. 

When the battle was won, the  _Valhalla_  stayed on Xandar for over a year, until word got out that the once glorious planet was under the protection of, not only the Guardians of the Galaxy, but also the relentless and mighty (and _berserk_ ) god of Thunder. 

Xandar found many, _many_ years of peace and prosperity afterwards.

 

*** * ***

 

Inspired by their stay on Xandar, where they had collected copies of many books on Æsir lore and history, Thor had taken to travelling through the Realms to collect or copy old Asgardian texts, and he began hoarding their lost books on magic and mythology in the _Valhalla’s_ small library. 

On Loki’s sixteenth birthday, Thor presented him with a pair of jewelled daggers he’d bought on Alfheim just because he thought that _his_ Loki would have loved them. He also gave the boy a book on seiðr-harnessing he had found whilst travelling through Vanaheim; his Loki had owned a copy an age ago – Thor remembered its bedraggled state and would have recognised the tome anywhere; he felt it fitting that this new incarnation of his brother should have the chance to grow to love the same book. 

If the exuberance of his hug was anything to go by, Loki loved both his presents. He begged Thor to train him to use the daggers and it ended with Thor teaching him to defend himself. They sparred on a daily basis whenever Thor was aboard the ship, and young Loki trained with Valkyrie when he was away. Some nights, always after they’d had their dinner, Thor would trail after Loki to their growing library, and listen as Loki settled in to read to him. 

On those nights, it was easier for Thor to find a few precious moments of peaceful slumber. 

 

*** * ***

  

Rabbit and Groot docked the  _Milano_ to the  _Valhalla_  the next time they visited. It was strange because, usually, they agreed to meet on a planet to eat, drink, and be merry. 

“Quill and Gamora are being boring and responsible on Xandar,” Rabbit informed him, snorting. “Something about ‘raising their kids right’.” 

“Sounds commendable,” Thor said. “What about Drax and Mantis?”  

Rabbit snickered, winking at Thor. “They’re otherwise  _occupied_.” 

Teenaged Groot snorted. “I am Groot!” 

Both Thor and Rabbit gasped and yelled in unison: “Language!” 

“You’re not too old for me to ground you, Groot!” Rabbit warned, shaking his head. “Anyway...they’re busy doing each other, so we were wondering if you’d like to accompany us on an adventure. We need the extra muscle and you got plenty to spare.” 

Thor perked up. “Ooh, what sort of adventure?” 

“We’re going after some slave traders, nasty business. The Ravagers are taking the lead on this one.” 

“Oh, excellent! Will Martinex join us? And Kraglin?” Thor asked, excited. “I like those guys.” 

“They’ll be there with bells on, buddy.” 

Thor frowned. “I don’t understand – if we need musical accompaniment on our journey, why not just use one of your music pods?” 

Rabbit guffawed; why, Thor could not tell. “Ah, you’re right, my bad – I should’ve thought of that. So, you in?” 

“It would be my pleasure to join your band of heroes, brave Rabbit! When do we leave?” 

“I am Groot.” 

“Yes, of course,” Thor said, leading the way to the dining hall. “Let’s eat first.” 

They filled their plates and joined Valkyrie, who was just finishing up her meal.  

“Can I come?” she asked when Thor told her he was leaving.

“You’re my second in command,” he reminded her. “This quest may take a while, so I need you here.” 

“I never get to do anything fun anymore,” she grumbled, getting to her feet and pointing an accusatory finger in Thor’s face. “I am going on the next adventure and  _you_  get to babysit.” 

“Deal,” Thor agreed with a grin, and Rabbit raised his glass to her as she sashayed away, and promised to call her instead of him next time. 

“I am Groot.” 

“Hot like  _smokin’_ ,” Rabbit agreed. 

Thor chuckled and spooned some food into his mouth, almost choking when he saw Loki enter the dining room, head buried in a book as usual. The almost choking was a result of watching the boy seemingly trip on air and fall flat on his face.  

Thor leapt to help him because of course Loki smashed his face on the floor hard enough to give himself a nosebleed. He grabbed a serviette and held it to Loki’s nose to stem the blood flow while yelling for someone to get a healer. Astrid was in the midst of her dinner so Thor just lifted Loki about the waist and carried him over to her, Loki’s skinny legs dangling in the air as he protested Thor’s hold on him. 

In less than a minute, Loki was healed and he thanked Astrid before wandering off to retrieve his book. Thor shook his head at his departing figure. He was so much like his brother at that age; it was ridiculous. The Norns surely loved their jest and, for some reason only known to them, they’d chosen to torture him with it. 

“Brings back memories,” Astrid said, startling him as she tapped a gnarled finger on his leather vambrace, tracing the etching there that matched the silhouette of the horns of Loki’s helm. “Between you and your brother, you’ve bled a river since you were born.” 

Thor’s breath caught in his chest and, he thought, wherever his brother was, he hoped he’d finally found peace. “He bleeds no more.” 

“Exactly,” she said, staring up at him shrewdly, her amber gaze flicking to his Guardian companions for a brief second; in that moment, she reminded him very much of Heimdall. She smacked his hand. “So stop trying so hard to bleed for him.” 

Before Thor could even think of a response, she shuffled away. He rejoined his friends, and Loki soon joined them with a plate piled high with food. His newly healed nose was still buried in the book.  

Thor sighed and removed it from his hands. “Rude,” he said pointedly. 

“Oh,” Loki said, chastened. “Sorry.” 

“Have I ever introduced you to my friends?” Thor asked him. 

He shook his head, his gaze shy as he looked at Rabbit and Groot. “I’ve seen you with them before, when I was younger, but Mother would never let me interrupt you.” 

Thor brushed back the lock of Loki’s hair that kept falling in his eyes. “You’re always welcome to interrupt me. I will never be too busy for you.” 

“Because I’m your favourite?” Loki asked, his smile all cheeky charm. 

Thor snorted. “I spoil you too much obviously.” 

“I’m not complaining.”  

Rabbit cleared his throat. “I thought you were introducing us?” 

“Oh, right. Loki, this is Rabbit...” 

“Actually, it’s Rocket,” Rabbit corrected, holding out a paw for Loki to shake and staring at Thor with a strange look in his eyes that Thor could not decipher. 

Then Thor did a double take. “What?” 

Rabbit – no,  _Rocket_  – shrugged. “What, what?”  

“I have been calling you Rabbit for the past two decades and you never thought to correct me?” 

“You never noticed that other people don’t call me Rabbit?” His furry friend chortled. “You’re a special snowflake, Thor. They broke the mould with you.” 

“I thought Rocket was a term of endearment,” Thor told him, pouting just a bit. “I did not wish to call you that unless invited to.” 

Rocket – that was going to take some getting used to – tapped his tiny fist affectionately on Thor’s hand. “Yeah, well, I like to think of Rabbit as a term of endearment and only you get to call me that.” 

Thor smiled. “I do like Rabbit.” 

“Me too. But he calls me Rocket,” he said, pointing his fork threateningly at Loki. 

Loki blinked in bewilderment, and Thor wrapped his arm around his shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “Yes, he’s always like this – very crotchety.” Thor told him, answering his unspoken question. 

Groot grinned. He grew an amethyst flower in his hand and presented it to Loki. “I am Groot.” 

“Thank you. I am Loki,” Loki replied. “Pleased to meet you both.” 

He tucked his flower into a curl of his hair right next to his ear and effortlessly wielded his seiðr to weave it into place. 

Thor was impressed. “You’re getting good at that.” 

Loki’s cheeks flushed and he smiled shyly, leaning into Thor’s embrace. “I’ve been practicing. With Astrid.” 

“Good,” Thor told him with an answering smile, pleased and proud, as he hugged him sideways.  

They stared at each other, and Thor marvelled at how much Loki reminded him of his brother. That they were practically identical in looks was a given, but now, at eighteen, on the cusp of manhood, he also had some of his brother’s mannerisms and spirit.  

Thor had a sudden flashback to the time of his almost coronation all those years ago, of Loki standing with him behind the velvet curtains of the antechamber, before Thor could make his grand entrance into the throne room. Images flickered in his mind’s eye: Loki’s crystal clear jade gaze, his beloved smile, his gleaming gold crown. 

_Cow_ , Thor thought with a smirk. 

The Loki in front of Thor now reminded him of his brother at that moment, youthful and impish, full of mirth and vitality, laughing and needling Thor, telling him to never doubt his love, teasingly asking for a kiss. 

Thor sighed; it made him wish he could turn back time and return to the days when he and his brother had teetered on that same cusp between boyhood and manhood together, just so that he could pay more attention to him this time around. Just to really  _see_ how his Loki had grown tall and lean, deceptively gaining muscle as he’d sparred with Thor, but keeping it hidden under the layers of his elegant and often outlandish attire. Just to appreciate his brother and keep him close and keep him safe, like he should have done. Just for the chance to be his best friend as they’d been when they were children, partners in mischief, inseparable and carefree.  

Instead, Thor had gone off with his Warrior friends, taunting Loki as his friends did for not having the same strength of body, for playing party tricks with his seiðr, and leaving Loki behind as Thor selfishly sought fun and adventure without his brother by his side. 

Oh, the things Thor would do differently if he had the chance. If only. 

It took Rabbit waving his paw between their faces for Thor to snap out of it. 

“So  _Loki_ , huh?” Rabbit asked. “Wasn’t that your brother’s name, buddy?” 

“Indeed,” Thor told him. “This Loki is the very image of my brother as well. They could be twins.” 

Rabbit looked startled. “You don’t say?”  

Thor frowned. “I just did say.” 

Rabbit rolled his eyes. “You’re worse than Drax sometimes.” 

“ _I am Groot_.” 

Thor was affronted, but Loki spoke before he could. “What’s so creepy about that?” 

“I am Groot.” 

Loki raised a supercilious eyebrow at him. “You regenerate into an identical version of yourself every time you die,  _Flora colossus_. You don’t get to comment.” 

“I  _am_  Groot.” 

“I  _only_  make good points,” Loki drawled, sniffing disdainfully. In that instant, he reminded Thor so much of his Loki that Thor felt it like a stab to his heart. 

“Jeez,” Rabbit muttered, rolling his eyes. “Teenagers.” 

“I am Groot?” 

“Leaving?” Loki asked, his head snapping in Thor’s direction. “You’re leaving?” 

“Aye, we leave in a few hours.” 

“Can I come?” 

“Of course not.” 

Loki sighed and slumped in his chair. “Why not?” 

“We’re going on a mission and you are no warrior,” Thor said genially, rubbing his head affectionately and ruffling his silky hair. “Also, I am your King and I forbid it.” 

Loki frowned at him, petulantly slamming his book shut. He pointed a finger right in Thor’s face; truly, his manners were atrocious sometimes. Thor zapped his finger with a tiny bolt of lightning to teach him a lesson; it had Loki jumping like a startled deer. It was all Thor could do to hold in his laughter. 

“Forgive me,  _your majesty_ ,” Loki said through teeth gritted in anger, his stormy green eyes challenging Thor. “Were you even going to say goodbye?” 

Thor hadn’t planned on it. “Loki...” 

Loki looked shattered, but he quickly masked his emotions. “Whatever. I don’t care; I’m just another of your lowly subjects.” He stood. “Don’t die.” 

Thor softened like butter left out in the sun. He clasped the back of Loki’s neck and drew him back down until their foreheads touched. “I will return,” he said softly, pressing a fond little kiss to the boy’s forehead. 

Loki swallowed visibly but maintained his stony expression. “You’d better,” he whispered, staring at Thor for a few more seconds before nodding to Rabbit and Groot and walking away. 

Thor watched until he left the hall, and only then noticed the pointed look exchanged by his two friends. “What?” 

“Oh boy,” Rabbit said. 

“I am Groot.” 

“Tell me about it,” Rabbit agreed. 

Their conversation made no sense to Thor, so he went back to finishing his now cold food. 

They left the  _Valhalla_  a few hours later, but not before Loki came running up to Thor before he could board the  _Milano_. He barrelled into Thor’s chest and hugged him, his arms tight around Thor’s neck and his feet dangling in the air after Thor caught him. 

“I didn’t want you to leave thinking I was still angry at you,” Loki whispered, his warm breath tickling Thor’s ear. 

Thor put him down and pulled back to cup his soft face in broad, war-roughened hands. “I only always remember you happy and full of life.” 

“You’re not angry with me?” 

“Now that is impossible.” 

Loki smiled, and a weight Thor hadn’t realised he’d had, lifted off his chest.  

“Be safe,” Loki said with a pat to his chest. 

“Be good,” Thor warned with a flick to his nose. 

Loki’s smile turned mischievous. “Make me.” 

“I am your King, of course I can make you.” 

Loki rolled his eyes. “You have to actually be here if you want to boss me around, your majesty.” 

Thor’s breath hitched in his chest. “Then, perhaps I shall strive to be here...more.” 

When Thor turned to leave, the last thing he saw was Loki’s triumphant grin. 

In his mind’s eye, there was always hisLoki.  

On the  _Valhalla_ , there was the Loki who could’ve been his brother’s twin.  

The Norns could be cruel and kind and, just so, in the blow they’d dealt Thor by allowing his Loki to die and this Loki to be born, this was equal parts a curse and a benediction. He supposed he deserved it. He had made too many mistakes in the past without properly paying his dues, without making amends. He had been forgiven his transgressions because he was Odin’s favoured son, but it had not changed the fact that he had also been proud and feckless and ever the fool, never appreciating, always taking for granted everything and everyone he should have held dear. 

Now the Norns tortured him with another Loki, a reincarnation of his brother in every way except the one that mattered most, a constant memento of his heartbreak, an ever-present reminder of the fact that he could never love another as much as he loved his brother. 

 

*** * ***

  

Thor, Rabbit, and Groot stayed with the Ravagers for almost two years. Thor contacted the Asgardians whenever he got the chance, but Valkyrie had things well in hand. The  _Valhalla_  had headed to Xandar after Thor’s departure, and she fully intended to stay there until her King returned. The fact that everyone on board was at peace almost made Thor want to extend his stay with his friends. The thrill of the chase and the heat of battle were distractions that worked best in all his waking moments. 

His sleep, on the other hand, was still disturbed by bad dreams and worse memories. Even when his fitful sleep was dreamless, he often found himself startled into wakefulness, the sound of Loki’s neck snapping in Thanos’ grip still ringing loud in his ears. 

This time, though, in his heart of hearts, he could quietly admit to himself that he longed to see young Loki’s face again. Truth be told Thor only ever yearned for his own Loki, his brother, his friend, his nemesis, his _love_. But he was selfish enough to take what he could get, and the sight of Loki’s new self would go a long way in soothing his shattered soul.  

It felt like a blessing to turn back and head for the  _Valhalla_. 

At the end of their quest, on their return to Xandar, Rabbit took the scenic route. He had had feelers out over the years, he said, listening to chatter over the free air coms on the  _Milano_. Something – or some _place_ , rather – had caught his attention over decade ago, and he had kept tabs on it. 

“It’s a planet?” Thor asked. 

“Yeah, a small one, very Earth-like, but with a huge single continent, ocean all around it. Far enough away from its sun that it’ll be habitable by humanoids. Breathable air, carbon-based lifeforms, and it’s got seasons, I think.” 

“You’ve been there already?” 

“Yeah, old Groot and I came to check it out for you once. I stumbled across it a lifetime ago, before I became a Guardian – before I ever even knew a Groot. It was in rough shape – destroyed by a century-long war I think, a tribal species taken out by a technological one. Either everyone on it died or it was abandoned by whatever survivors were left. There was only dying vegetation and starving animals,” Rabbit told him. “New Groot and I swung by a couple of years ago just before we came to get you. It was recovering. It was lush, with lots of animals. I think you guys’ll like it there.” 

Thor was touched. “Sweet Rabbit, I don’t know what to say. I thank you, my friend.” 

“I am Groot.” 

“Yes, thank you too, Groot!” 

“I am Groot.” 

“ _Funny_ animals?” Thor felt his excitement build. “Can we hunt them? Eat them? 

“Probably,” Rabbit said. “Your people got the knowledge, right? You can domesticate and cultivate and do whatever you gotta to do grow a planet.” 

“To make a  _home_ ,” Thor whispered, imagining it in his mind’s eye already.  _If only you were here to share and build it with me, Loki_ , he thought to himself. 

“I am Groot. I am  _Groot_.” 

Thor shook his head to clear it and smiled at his young companion. “ _Big_  horses? Big enough for  _you_  to ride?” Thor asked; Groot nodded. 

Rabbit shrugged. “Eh, his ‘big horses’ are more like giraffes to you and me.” 

“I am Groot,” Groot insisted as Thor laughed. 

“Horse or giraffe or anything else, Groot – if you’ve always wanted to ride one,”Thor said as he jovially clapped Groot on his bark, “then I shall teach you!” 

 

The planet, as the  _Milano_  approached it, shone like a luminous blue orb in the blackness of space. Rabbit was right that it was not unlike Earth, Thor thought, but this planet was orbited by three moons, one large and two smaller twin ones. As they got closer, Thor saw the planet’s massive singular continent; not broad and wide, but long and narrow: it spanned the planet’s equator like a strange green and brown belt, but one that did not fully encircle its circumference.  

Once they entered the atmosphere and got past the modest cloud cover, he saw that the land mass was indeed overrun with vegetation. Rabbit whizzed over the vast ocean and past rocky cliffs as he flew low enough for them to see that the planet was teeming with wildlife running free. Avian flocks took to the air at the unfamiliar sound of their ship. The birds’ startled flight set off stampedes of mixed herds of ungulates, both large and small, running through the trees as they fled unseen danger. Some animals took little notice of the foreigners in their midst, like the large dromedaries that chewed their cud as if nothing was amiss and the huge elephantine beasts bathing unbothered in muddy rivers because they knew that they faced no threat from the other creatures on the planet. Other animals tracked the ship’s movement across the skies with the eerie watchfulness of natural born predators, both canid and feline; some of them were as large as the bilgesnipes Thor had hunted in his youth. He didn’t notice any primates but those creatures were smart; if they existed, they were probably watching from the canopies, hidden from sight. 

Despite the abundance of fauna and flora, there appeared to be resources aplenty, especially freshwater, to sustain more life. Thor saw multiple rivers, fed by the snow-capped mountain range that bisected the continent widthwise; some rivers led to lakes, while others ran to the seas. When the  _Milano_ landed, Rabbit’s machines indicated that even the ocean was home to several lifeforms. 

As he stepped foot on the planet for the first time, Thor took several minutes to stare out at the vast ocean, watching as huge waves crashed unceasingly against sharp rocks that grew into high craggy cliffs. Further down the beach, it was calmer. Here, softer sands led straight to forests, which were as dense and lush as Rabbit had promised. 

Thor closed his eyes and breathed in deep, tasting the salt in the air at the back of his tongue. The air was clean, the winds bracing, and a sun shone brightly in the distance. It was warm and welcoming, much warmer than the temperate climes of Asgard. That could change once people colonised it;  _he_ could change the weather to suit them a bit better if it benefited the planet; he’d done it successfully with Jötunheim after all. In fact, he figured his people may actually welcome the warmth after being so long in the cold emptiness of space. 

Instinctively, he raised his hands to the sky and called down a storm: fat clouds rolled in, lightning crackled and thunder rumbled in the distance as he took to the sky, flying high. He could smell ozone in the air, salt and electricity, soft earth and hard rock letting free their scent as the rain fell, and it smelled like  _home_.  

In that instant, he missed his brother so fiercely that a lesser being would have been brought to his knees. He took in heaving lungfuls of air and rejoiced as he let his lightning free.  

When he came back down to the beach, he scooped up Rabbit and Groot and hugged them to him, eager to share his happiness. 

“I am forever indebted to you for this kindness!” 

Rabbit chuckled. “I’m guessing you like it?” 

Thor beamed as he set them back down. “I love it! I’m sure our people will love it too. This will do splendidly, dear Rabbit!”  

Groot nudged Rabbit. “I am Groot.” 

“Ask me what, Tree?” Thor asked. 

Rabbit scuffed his foot in the sand and avoided Thor’s gaze. “Well, seeing as how we found this for you...er...we’d like to ask for something in return.” 

“Ask for anything! I don’t have much to my name but my people and my ship but I will scour the universe for whatever riches you deem worthy in recompense for this magnificent favour!” 

Rabbit waved his paw dismissively. “Nah, we can get riches ourselves, that’s not what we want.” 

“What do you want then?” 

Rabbit scratched the back of his head. “So, you know how Quill and Gamora are settled on Xandar, right? I mean, they’re not going anywhere. Nebula will never leave Gamora’s side. And Drax and Mantis are probably going to stay there too because Mantis has never had people and Drax lost all his people. They’re family now.” 

“I  _am_  Groot.” 

“Right, that’s not to say that  _we_  aren’t family but we’re different, me and Groot. We ain’t got nobody special like they do; we’ve got each other and we’ve got... _you_ ,” Rabbit told him. He huffed when he saw Thor’s questioning look. “My point is: Xandar’s not too far from here. A few jumps.”                                                        

“I am  _Groot_.” 

“Shut up already, Groot, I’m getting there! Xandar’s set, you know, Thor? They have all their technology, it’s just a matter of building their population again. Immigrants are coming in and soon it’ll be the Xandar it used to be, you get me?”  

Thor nodded; that much he understood. “Are you saying that, with your technological prowess, that you feel unneeded on Xandar?” 

“Exactly! Here, on the other hand...” 

“On Nyr Asgard?” 

“What?” 

“ _New_  Asgard in the old tongue.” 

“Ah, right. Here, on Asgard 2.0, you need people to help out. Tech savvy people. Like me.”  

“ _I_  am Groot.” 

“Yeah, and tree savvy Groots...like Groot.” 

Thor laughed delightedly. “Rabbit, Groot – are you requesting citizenship of Nyr Asgard?” 

Rabbit smirked and Groot chortled. “That we are, your majesty.” 

“I am Groot.” 

“Yes, he will get an even bigger head; that’s a given. But we have to call him that if we move here, Groot. He’s gonna be our King.” 

“No titles necessary. I give you leave to call me whatever you like,” Thor assured them, still grinning. “I cannot thank you both enough; your presence here will be a great boon to me and to my people. I have always considered you honoraryAsgardians. But now, _you_ honour _me_ ; thank you.” 

Rabbit leaned against Thor’s leg, uncomfortable with the praise as usual, while Groot twirled one end of Thor’s cape around his barky wrist. Thor hugged them both to his side. 

“We should plant a flagstaff here, with our banner, from that cliff over there; it’s the most prominent one I could see from the sky,” Thor said. “Claim this planet for Asgard until we return with the  _Valhalla_.” 

“Excellent idea,” Rabbit drawled. “Where are you gonna find a flagstaff that big?” 

“You remember my telling you of my adventures as a Champion of Asgard?” 

“When you went out conquering with your warrior friends?” 

Thor nodded. “My brother tried many times to teach me to wield my lightning seiðr the way he did...in sorcery.” He smiled as he stared into the distance. “I thought he wanted to lord his skills over me, because that is certainly not where my skills lie. He did boast, of course, but I think it was also a way to get me to spend more time with him.” 

“I am Groot.” 

“Seiðr is one’s inherent, latent magic,” Thor explained. “It can take centuries to learn how to nurture and propagate it, rein it in, control it with finesse, and use it to your advantage. Loki excelled in all these things; he is...,” Thor paused to clear his throat, “...was...a powerful sorcerer; more ingenious and more devious, I now know, than he ever revealed to us.” 

Rabbit hummed. “He was something, huh?” 

“He was  _everything,_ ” Thor said, an image of his brother’s smug smile clear in his mind. “He still  _is_  everything to me. He reeled me in and tempted me with a trick he knew I would not be able to resist. He told me that, if I insisted on plundering and conquering new worlds, that I should be able to conjure a flagstaff and fly the banner of Asgard on any land we stake claim upon.”  

“Think you can still do it?” 

“We shall find out,” Thor said, calling Stormbreaker to his hand.  

When the handle hit his open palm, Thor closed it within his fist and raised it to the cliff towering high above their heads. He concentrated on what Loki had taught him, and he called forth the power of the storm once more. He brought to mind the old banner of Asgard, and he remembered all he had lost. He thought of Loki, and of his parents, and how he wished to honour them, and felt the familiar crackle of his lightning dance across his skin as his feet left the ground and he soared above the cliffs. Stormbreaker positioned his hand like a compass finding its true north and a sudden huge bolt of electricity emitted from her star-forged blade.  

The surge of pure white light as Thor’s lightening hit the land was blinding. When it finally dissipated, a towering spire stood in its place, glinting silver and gleaming in the sun, solid at the base but tapering to a spike as it rose high into the sky. From its helm flew a huge banner that was nothing like the old Asgardian flag.  

Thor flew closer to get a better look and was taken aback. The flag was a pristine white embellished in gold leaf, as if the metal itself had somehow been hammered into cloth. In all his dreams, he could never have imagined what he saw there but, apparently, his seiðr had had a very clear idea.  

In the middle of the flag was the outline of a three-lobed leaf in gold, its edges serrated, but ending in little curlicues that immediately reminded Thor of the curls of his mother’s hair; it fitted, for Frigga was the goddess of fertility over land, of crops and animals, a power that Thor had also inherited. But she also she wove destiny and, when she did, it was usually with snowy white and gold threads. The stem of the leaf was no stem at all; it was the head of Gungnir, his father’s staff, pointed downwards. In the middle of the leaf, the silver wings of Thor’s old helm stretched, overlapped by the curled golden horns of Loki’s helm, rising up and around the base of Thor’s wings, intertwined in Nyr Asgard’s new banner as in all things between them. 

Thor raised Stormbreaker to the flag in salute, and lightning lit up the darkening sky.  

 

*** * ***

  

Before the _Valhalla_ landed in her new home, Thor led a scouting team there to determine the best locations to start building. Luckily terraformation was not necessary, only reformation of what they already had, tailored to the needs of the people who would soon be sharing it with the native species, none of which were humanoid. 

Rabbit, Korg, and a small team of architects and builders stayed with Thor to survey the land itself, and to calculate the potential challenges they could face. Groot and Miek joined a team of agriculturists and farmers to survey the planetary flora and fauna, and to determine where best cultivate crops and which species to breed into livestock; careful considerations had to be made to minimise impact to the natural habitat. 

The experts were chosen from amongst the Asgardians and Xandarians and, within a few months of working through the days and nights, plans had been drawn up to begin the construction of Nyr Asgard City. Large swathes of land were cleared close to the widest part of the continent, big enough to build a small city and dock the massive  _Valhalla_ , all of it buttressed against the mountain range behind it. The arid grasslands in the East were selected for agriculture and livestock farming, and the wild animals were herded to the vast verdant savannahs and lush forests of the West, beyond the mountains, so they could live in peace without people invading their territories. 

With the benefit of Æsir seiðr and Xandarian technology, the work was fast. Valkyrie suggested designing the palace along the lines of the Valhalla, with living space for all within its walls, so that the Asgardians could stay together. The city could then be built around the palace more slowly, fit for purpose as the needs of the people evolved and their population grew. 

The Asgardians voted again to stay together, so used were they to living aboard the Valhalla, in close quarters with everyone else, and with their King walking amongst them as kin and friend, protector and leader, as opposed to seated on a lofty throne high above them as sovereign. 

That suited Thor as well, for he had no desire to be anything like his father. He didn’t want to rule; he wanted to defend and shelter these people who had remained loyal to him in the worst of times. He wanted to welcome his friends and allies into their midst and for Nyr Asgard to become a sanctuary for anyone who needed protection and sanctuary. 

Thor hoped that the best of times lay ahead of them; surely after suffering enough pain and loss to last several lifetimes, they all deserved it. 

 

*** * ***

  

A mere two years later, he stood on the balcony of his new chambers and took stock of the progress they had made. 

Before the growing had begun, Thor had given Idunn first choice of the lands so she could pick a place to plant her magical orchard; the Æsir had been without her youth-preserving apples for far too long. Thor could now see the young apple trees from his vantage; their boughs already full of golden fruit; this would be their first harvest. Thanks to his blessing over the land, the arid soil they had chosen for agriculture, and to build the city on, had become fertile once more and plant life was thriving all over the planet. It also allowed the establishment of several fruit orchards and grain fields, sown from a plethora of seeds that had been acquired from across the Realms as well as their travels across the universe; their growth was hastened by Thor’s fertility seiðr.

The cultivation of the planet’s native ungulates for livestock was coming along nicely, and fledgling fisheries were making the most of the bounties of the seas. Young Loki’s mother, Magna, whose family had long been fisherpeople on Asgard, had been instrumental in organising their fisheries. Her husband Björn, born into a family of master shipbuilders, had been key in leading his team in the construction of many hardy fishing vessels, and they had just completed their first longship. 

In the coming year, they would produce enough surplus foods to easily supplement newly established trade with nearby planets, especially Xandar, their closest of neighbours and allies. 

The palace had been mostly completed. It currently looked like it was born of the very rock of the mountains it leant against, and the result was a rather stunning structure of both rough and polished stone that, in Thor’s opinion, was every bit as impressive as their golden palace on Asgard. It didn’t rise too high into the sky; towering only a few metres higher over the tallest treetops. Everyone had been living aboard the _Valhalla_ during its construction but, over the last month, they had all moved into their palace dwellings. The massive dining hall with its attached kitchens had been fully furnished and functional for months, though they were nowhere near as ostentatious as they had been on Asgard. In fact, nothing on Nyr Asgard was as grandiose; even the dais in the throne room still didn’t have a throne on it; at some point, Thor would have to prioritise getting one. 

The only boon Thor had taken for himself as King was to claim the highest tower of the palace where he now stood as the Royal Wing. From this vantage, he could survey most of the city; he could watch the sun set over the forests of the north, and the moons rise in the west over the mountains; he could stare at the azure ocean spanning from the east all the way south, and it would calm him. Every view was breathtakingly lovely, and he fervently wished he could share it with Loki. 

When the construction was complete, Thor discovered that he had unwittingly designed his new chambers to mirror the floorplan of Loki’s rooms on Asgard: a bedroom with a massive four-poster bed and a long divan by the balcony doors, but not much else yet in terms of furniture; a bathing chamber with both a huge sunken bath and a roomy shower; a big dressing room; and a cosy study with three walls covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that housed Thor’s own collection from his recent travels. 

Loki’s helm took pride of place in a corner where Thor could always see it no matter where in the room he stood. It was all just another little way to keep Loki’s memory, at least, alive. 

At the end of the day, he wanted to build a home that he would be proud to share with his brother when he returned to him. And if he never did, Thor thought with his breath stuttering in his chest, perhaps one day when Death finally came for Thor and he was able to find Loki again in the Afterlife, they could journey to Helgafjell together, and build a home like the one he was planning here, so that Thor could still share a part of Nyr Asgard with him. 

Loki would probably mock him mercilessly for his sentimentality, Thor thought, smiling as he envisioned it, but it would be worth it because he was sure that Loki would secretly love it. 

His silent reverie was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps; he turned to see his newly appointed personal assistant, Gyda, marching towards him with purpose. 

“Sire, you have much to do today,” she said, sounding a little frazzled. 

“I have much to do every day, Gyda,” he replied with a wry smile, dutifully following her out when she waved a hand towards the open doorway. 

“Aye, sire, that is why you have me,” she said as she flipped through the tablet in her hand. They walked to the lift that allowed private access to the Royal Wing and took it down several stories to the main floor of the palace. “The Chief Engineer has been trying to reach you all morning. It’s about the materials he needs to acquire from Knowhere...” 

“For the forcefield?” 

“Yes, sire.” 

“Tell Rabbit I’ll call him later,” Thor said, listening intently to her even as he wondered what exactly it was that Rabbit might need from Knowhere. His furry friend was currently on Xandar trying to suss out exactly how the Xandarians had constructed their forcefields; Thor hoped that they, too, would soon be able to recreate a similar protection to shield Nyr Asgard from an external attack. Right now, that was his top priority. He made this known to Gyda and she reprioritised his to-do list to include a few days in Knowhere in the coming week. 

“Eir has asked that you inspect the medical wing at your earliest convenience; she and Astrid are at your disposal. She also has the plans drawn up for the soul forge; you will need to approve them. You have some time tomorrow afternoon. Would that be suitable, your majesty?” 

“Yes; that, at least, should not take too long. Eir is a perfectionist.” 

“Understatement,” Gyda muttered, and Thor smirked; they were both very familiar with Eir and her demands. She was a powerful healer though, so Thor was happy to cater to her every wish for the medical wing. “Also, General Valkyrie requests that you make yourself available to spar with her later today because she’s feeling – and I quote: ‘murdery’.” 

Thor laughed. “In the interest of public safety, tell her I’ll be there.” 

As they walked out onto the terraces of the throne room, Thor took a moment to enjoy the view of the ocean in the distance before focussing on the vast empty plot of land beneath them. “Has the fountain been completed yet?” 

“Yes, sire,” Gyda said. “They’ll transport it here tomorrow, along with the stone tiles. Today they plan to lay down the soil and sod for the palace gardens. We’ll begin planting once you’ve approved the landscaping plans.” 

Thor sighed and nodded. When Gyda had finished with her reminders, he sent her off to take a break and grab an early lunch; he then took the opportunity to look out over what would soon be the private Royal Gardens, and tried to remember how his mother had designed them on Asgard. 

If Loki were here, he would know what to do, Thor thought, and not for the first time. While Thor had been out fighting his father’s battles, and carousing and adventuring with his friends, Loki had been learning to run a kingdom, acquiring knowledge on everything from diffusing diplomatic tensions to planning palace celebrations.  

He sighed and, in his mind’s eye, Loki sneered at his uselessness. Thor could almost hear his brother’s voice in his head self-righteously saying ‘I told you so’, and he _had_ ; Loki had tried so hard to get Thor to pay more than just a cursory attention to the actual daily nitty-gritty duties of being King. Instead, Thor had focussed firmly on the pomp and ceremony and, of course, the revelry.

He was about to leave when a soft sound behind him made him turn.  Young Loki approached him, a sweet smile on his face. The twin faces of his brother, the one in his mind and the one before him blurred into one and Thor’s breath hitched in his chest. 

“Am I disturbing you, your majesty?” Loki asked. 

“No, of course not,” Thor replied. “Come and look at this view. Is it not beautiful?” 

“It is,” Loki agreed with a shy smile, though his eyes never left Thor’s face.

He must be over twenty years old now, Thor thought; he had stopped counting because it always reminded him of how long he’d been without his Loki. But he could not avoid him and now the resemblance to Thor’s brother was beyond remarkable; he didn’t know whether to curse the Norns or thank them; it shocked Thor to the core every time he saw him. 

Especially now that Loki had let his hair grow long, curling softly past his nape; he looked lovely. 

It was hard not to stare. 

It was even harder when a pair of pretty green eyes stared right back at him. 

“Sometimes...” Loki started, his voice almost a whisper, so Thor leaned in closer. “Sometimes, I look at you and see in your eyes the same desire I feel in my heart.” Thor reared back. “Do you not act on it because I share a face with your brother?” 

Thor blinked and tried to swallow past his suddenly parched throat. “I... _What?_ ” 

Loki peered up at him through lush black lashes as he stepped closer. “Were you lying when you once told me that looking at me mends your broken heart?” 

Thor took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, trying valiantly to translate them into the right words. “My heart is so fractured; I fear it will never be whole again. But looking at you, and seeing you happy, makes me happy.” 

“Then why not give in?” Loki demanded, coming close enough to reach out a hand and lay it upon Thor’s wildly beating heart. “You must know how much I love you.” 

As the words he had ever longed to hear from his brother’s lips washed over him, he wondered if this was how he would finally die. He waited; he even held his breath, but an easy way out eluded him. 

For the first time in his life, Thor wished he was more of a coward. 

“I love you too, little one,” he said, forcing himself to speak. “Like I love all my people.” 

“No!” Loki argued, thumping his chest with a closed fist. He pressed his lithe young body firmly against Thor’s and grabbed his face with both hands. “I _love_ you! I’m _in_ love with you! I’ve been in love with you forever it seems and, no matter how hard I try, I cannot stop this feeling. It does not go away.” His ragged voice hitched as tears welled in his eyes. “You feel the same, I _know_ you do!” 

“I’m sorry, Loki, but I don’t,” Thor said in an equally raw voice. “You need to understand. I love my brother more than my own life, more than anything, more than any _one_ ; I could never love another like that; I don’t have the capacity in me to do so.” 

“Try! Please!” 

Thor gently clasped Loki’s wrists and removed them from his body, but his thumbs soothingly stroked the thin skin over his pulse. “Understand me when I say, Loki: I will never put anyone ahead of _my_ Loki in my heart. And you are too good, too sweet, and too wonderful to be anyone’s second choice, least of all mine.” 

Loki sobbed as Thor’s words sunk in. “But he was your _brother_ , and he’s _dead!_ I’m not your brother, and I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m _right here!_ You’re lying if you say you don’t return my love! I’ve seen the way you look at me!” 

“You’re mistaken. Forgive me if I’ve led you astray so carelessly and without thought, Loki, but you are mistaken, and I am sorry. You deserve better, but... You’re right; I do look at you with great affection but it is more because, when I look at you sometimes, _he_ is the only one I see.” 

Loki’s head snapped back like he’d been slapped. His expression hardened even as fresh tears sprung in his eyes. “So you would be happy then, if I found someone else?” 

Thor’s breath caught in his chest. 

“It would not be easy for me,” he said at last, feeling as if he owed Loki that honesty. “But I would be happy for you if you were happy. If you truly find love, a love worthy of you, I would be very happy. I want nothing but the best for you.” 

“There is no one better than _you_ , my King.” 

“You think that now but you are young with your whole life ahead of you. And you are but a child; I am already over fifteen hundred years older than you!” 

“Please,” Loki wailed suddenly, falling against Thor’s chest as he begged. “You would make me happy. _So_ happy! And if I must come second to someone, then I am honoured to be second only to your brother in your affections.” 

“You do not mean that...” 

“Do not presume to tell me about my own feelings!” he exclaimed angrily, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I am old enough to know that at least.” 

“Loki...” 

“ _Thor,_ ” he said, his voice hard, and using Thor’s name for the first time ever. “We all know that I am not a natural child. My family is my family, and I love them more than words could ever say, but I look nothing like them and everything like my namesake. Something happened with me that is beyond our comprehension. My very _existence_ is beyond comprehension! You lost your brother and the Norns gave you me in his stead,” Loki said fiercely. “And you’re still going to push me away?” 

Thor breath gusted out of his body on a harsh exhale. “I don’t pretend to understand how the Norns work. All I know is this: you may share my brother’s face, his voice, even some of his mannerisms, enough to remind me of him even more constantly than I am already reminded of him, but: _you are not him_.” He gently pushed Loki away from him, brushed aside his tears, and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head. “You are more special to me than I ever thought you could be, and I love you dearly. But my heart is not yours to take, and it is not mine to give. It has ever belonged to my brother and, even in death, he keeps it still.” 

“No! Please...” 

“I’m sorry, little one,” Thor said, aching for Loki because it felt like he was rejecting both him _and_ his brother yet again. He had to stay strong, though, he thought as he turned away. 

He held out his hand for Stormbreaker, ignoring Loki’s calls for him to stay, and summoned the Bifrost without even thinking of where he wanted to go, only that he needed to leave, to get as far away from this Loki as he could, and to get as close to his Loki as possible. 

Stormbreaker took him to Jötunheim, to the banks of the Ífing, the great river that once served as a link from Jötunheim to Asgard, long before the conflict between Odin and Laufey. Thor laughed as he cried, falling to his knees as he gazed into the distance, seeing nothing where a glimpse of Asgard had once been visible in the great distance. 

He stayed there for three days, sitting on the pebbled river bank, before word got to Helblindi and Býleistr and they came for him. 

“Well met, my friends,” he greeted them, trying for civility in the midst of his inner turmoil. 

“Not really, Thor,” Helblindi said. “We’ve had word from General Valkyrie.” 

“She sent out a search party?” Thor asked, smiling ruefully at the thought, even if it was not possible in such short a time span. 

Býleistr did not look amused. “More like a distress signal.” 

Thor’s smile faded. “What is it?” 

“You need to return, my friend,” Helblindi said gravely. “Nyr Asgard is under attack.” 

The Bifrost took away before another word could be said. 

 

*** * ***

  

He touched down on the beaches in the west of Nyr Asgard, Stormbreaker bringing him to Valkyrie’s side. 

“It’s about time!” she shouted at him over the sounds of fire from the enemy soldiers coming at them from the sea. 

Thor rose into the sky, calling down his lightning without preamble and electrocuting the strange reptilian aliens while they were still in the water. When he was done a minute later, dozens of their dead floating bodies bobbed on the ocean’s surface. 

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Val mumbled. She pointed down the beach to where Korg and Meik and a few Asgardians were still fighting. “After you, your majesty.” 

Valkyrie shouted for their people to take cover, and Thor needed no further direction; he shot into the sky on a bolt of lightning, and then brought Stormbreaker crashing down on the sands. Wave upon wave of his lightning seiðr took out every enemy in the vicinity. 

Thor met Valkyrie and the others as they came back to the beach. “What are they?” he asked. “Where did they come from?” 

“No idea; all I know is that they’re ugly and vicious and Hel bent on our destruction,” Valkyrie said, and then pointed to the sky. “Also, there’s more incoming.” 

Before Thor could make a move, three small short-range fighter craft came flying out from behind them, shooting at the intruders; they were from the _Valhalla_. A fourth one touched down on the beach, and Rabbit and Groot got out. 

“This one’s yours, Val,” Rabbit called. “We’ll stick with Thor.” 

Valkyrie grinned maniacally. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, pointing at Thor. “And then you and I are having a long discussion about the repercussions of you going off by yourself without telling anyone where you’re going!” 

Korg whistled. “For the record, Meik and I do not want to be around for that conversation, mate.” 

“Thanks, you’re a true friend.” Thor muttered, and then looked to Rabbit and nodded at the battle in the skies above them. “Do you know what they are?” 

“The Brotherhood of the Badoon,” Rabbit said, urgency in his voice. “Bloodthirsty freaks! All they do is invade planets and take them over. And sometimes these guys bring their ugly-ass friends with them! We saw ships heading in from the east; the city’s unprotected! We gotta jet, Thor!” 

“We’re with you,” Korg chimed in and Meik clicked his razor-bladed arms. 

In a few seconds, the Bifrost shot them straight to the city. The alien ships had already landed, and hundreds of Badoon warriors swarmed out of them, advancing on his people, some of whom were surging out to meet them and others who stood back, ready to attack, but guarding the entrance to their palace home. 

The Asgardians were armed, with swords and guns alike, for all the able-bodied amongst them had trained for battle during their years on the _Valhalla_. That tradition had continued on Nyr Asgard when they weren’t working on building their new planet. Thor was proud of them and the ferocity they were showing on the battlefield in front of him. 

“We have to cluster the enemy together somehow,” he called out to Rabbit, over the din of the battle, as they ran towards the Asgardians. He couldn’t just crack the ground with lightning here; there was too much danger that his people might also get hurt. 

“Doesn’t look like we need to,” Rabbit yelled, and he was right. 

The Badoon army had driven his people back on the dusty road, still under construction, which led to the wide stairs at the palace’s main entrance. The Asgardians looked both terrified and resolute and Thor had a flashback to how they had looked exactly the same way when standing on the Bifrost on Asgard, trying to board the Grandmaster’s ship while also readying themselves to fight Hela’s minions. 

“We need to get out in front of them,” Rabbit said, but his voice came as if from far away because Thor suddenly saw Loki and his brother Torsten, swords in hand, push to the front of the crowd so they could flank their older sister, Tove, one of the Einherjar, even though it appeared that she was yelling and trying to push them back. 

“Loki,” he whispered, and a fear so debilitating gripped him that he tripped to a stop and stood...frozen.

As one, the people suddenly looked up for, in that instant, the Badoon soldiers launched a wave of spears at the Asgardians, hundreds of them, like metal spikes raining down from the sky. Without shields, the people didn’t stand a chance, but it was the look of sheer terror on Loki’s face that hit Thor in the chest, and he was thrown back to when he was being held on his knees as Thanos strangled the last breath from his Loki. 

“Thor, move!” he heard someone shout. 

He couldn’t, though. Something held him back, like he was suddenly tangled and twisted again in the Maw’s ensorcelled metal. Over the thudding of his heart, Thor wondered in horror if Thanos was back somehow even though he knew that to be impossible. 

In the moment that Thor froze, he saw Loki – fear and indecision warring on his face for a split second before his expression became determined – propelled into action, dropping his sword and throwing his arms out towards the sky.  

A vicious burst of emerald seiðr flowed from his hands and over all the people behind him, seconds before the hail of enemy spears glanced off the protective seiðr dome, falling to the ground, useless. 

The Asgardians looked to Loki as one, shock on their faces. 

The Badoon soldiers also stilled, just as stunned. 

Thor held his breath, his eyes fixed on Loki. 

“What’re we waiting for, come on!” Rabbit yelled hysterically. 

Thor held out his hand. “Wait! Just...wait.” 

As they watched, the enemy surged back to life, bellowing their war cries again, burgeoning with renewed anger and bloodlust as they abandoned their attack from afar in favour of rushing forward, weapons drawn. 

From the ships behind them, a new enemy emerged, hideous and huge, a giant insect race, each with a gaping maw sporting a row of massive razor-sharp teeth protruding from blood-red gums. They looked like demons, their rapier-like pincers clicking and their feet kicking up dust as they moved.  Slithery tentacles capable of squeezing someone to death sliced the air behind them, while their massive scorpion-like tails were held aloft, ready to use like a people-swatter. They were a nightmarish sight. 

Thor grimaced; this race he knew; he’d met the Brood in battle before. 

“Oh shit,” Rabbit grumbled at his side. “I really hate when they bring their friends with them.” 

Thor raised Stormbreaker and launched it at the enemy, watching with glee as it flew through the air, leaving several of the Brood sliced and diced and quite dead in its wake. 

Though Thor had hoped to call the battle away from his people, neither the Badoon nor the Brood strayed from their path. 

As he tracked Stormbreaker’s progress, his gaze was drawn again to Loki, his eyes widening when he saw an all too familiar look on Loki’s face – a look he’d only even seen his _brother_ wear. 

Stormbreaker sung the song of battle, guided by Thor’s lightning seiðr, but Thor himself froze. As he watched, he saw the fear on Loki’s face morph into anger as he lowered his arms, the seiðr dome above him vanishing and leaving their people vulnerable to attack once more. 

It did not matter, though, for in Loki’s eyes and in every line of his body – in the way he held himself, in the way he raised his hands again, in the way he left the Asgardians behind and stalked towards the enemy, fearless and slow and deadly – Thor could see his anger transform into... 

Rage. 

_Trust my rage._  

_His_ Loki’s silken voice hissed the words in his mind; Thor trusted, and he waited. 

Loki suddenly howled to the sky, as if his roar was strangling him and freeing him all at once. It terrified the Asgardians near him into backing away, further and faster, and giving him a wide berth, even young Loki’s siblings. 

It made the enemy hesitate. 

Then, as everyone watched, Loki’s scream trailed off as the very air around him split apart, tearing like a gold-edged gossamer curtain being ripped in two. 

There was a sudden blinding flash of emerald seiðr, and it was so powerful that it seemed to originate both in the sky as it hit Loki from above, and from the ground beneath him as it pulsed through his body, the force of it so great that it lifted him physically off the ground. 

Thor gasped as Loki’s simple Asgardian linen robes disappeared into nothingness and, in their place, seamlessly, flawlessly, effortlessly – _wondrously_ – appeared shiny black boots, a black leather tunic and trousers, a billowing emerald cape that perfectly matched the colour of his seiðr, gold battle armour, and a gleaming golden helm, horns curved high. 

Loki, once again the Saviour of Asgard, spread his hands as his seiðr materialised into two glistening rapiers. 

Thor fell to his knees, a ragged sob tearing its way out of his throat. 

In the distance, his brother smirked and unleashed his wrath. 

 

*** * ***

 

 


	3. Flight

**Prologue to Chapter Three**

  

**_Rage, rage, against the dying of the light..._ **

 

 

Once he had calmed down, Loki found his way back to Thor’s side. 

Because that was what Loki always did. 

He was helpless, hapless, and hopeless when it came to Thor, regardless of how much he loved and hated him. And he loved and hated him enough to last several of their lifetimes. All through their long lives, even when Thor had clearly been in the wrong, unleashing his legendary temper in Loki’s direction without good cause, it had always been Loki who had given in and gone back to Thor first: like the needle of a compass inexorably finding true north; like Mjölnir; he always – for better or for worse – returned to his brother.  

_Always._  

That was never more true than now, Loki realised, especially after watching Thor’s hammer – ever a symbol of his brother’s indestructibility – crumble to rubble in Hela’s hand. Thor was supposed to be the strong one, the _mightiest_ ; he was and had always been infallible, irreproachable, invincible. He was the undisputed Champion of Asgard, the hero of Midgard, and the future King and Allfather of the Nine Realms. 

Loki had been delusional in his youth to ever think he’d stood a chance at Asgard’s golden throne when his brother existed in the same reality as him. 

Then Hela had come along and Thor was no longer invulnerable to attack, despite truly coming into his powers and embracing his lightning seiðr the way Loki had been trying to get him to do for centuries. It was more jarring than Loki could ever put into words to see his brother without his eye, to realise how close Thor had come to losing his life at Hela’s hand. 

And how close Loki had come to losing Thor. 

Perspective: Loki was finally getting some. 

After taking the time to calm himself, to breathe and regroup, it occurred to him that he was all Thor had left. He had his friends and his people, of course, but none could ever be so loyal to him as Loki; none would move worlds to ensure that Thor lived; no one else could, hindered as they were by a lack of true power, and frivolous laws and _morals_. 

No one but Loki. 

It no longer mattered to him that Thor was loath to touch him. It did not matter that the Asgardians would eventually remember that they hated him – for betraying them or for being Jötunn or just for being himself – or that the Midgardians would forever distrust and detest him for once trying to annihilate and enslave them; all that mattered was that Thor was alive and doing what he needed to do to be... _Thor_. 

Even if it meant that Loki would never be welcome into his circle of Avenger friends just like he’d once been shunned by his circle of Asgardian warrior friends. 

Even if that meant Loki would have to watch him find happiness again with... _that_ woman. 

Even if an insurmountable distance separated them despite their newfound tentative truce, and Thor never trusted him again. 

Loki was more than willing to become Thor’s enemy just to be kept closer to him than his friends. 

And though he could not channel the fury of a storm, inMjölnir’s absence, Loki would become Thor’s hammer; he would rain down his rage on Thor’s enemies and woe to anyone who ever tried to harm to his brother, or to take him away from Loki. 

 

  *** * ***

  

When he found Thor aboard the _Statesman_ , his brother looked relieved and suspicious and cautiously hopeful all at once. They stood side by side as they stared out at the blanket of stars before them at the viewport, a careful distance between them as there always was when they were not engaged in grappling with one another.  

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” he asked, setting the tone for Thor by keeping his own neutral.

“Yes, of course. The people of Earth love me; I’m very popular,” Thor assured him, and he sounded fine, as if their soul-wrenching conversation from just a day ago – when Thor had refused to touch him, to hold him, to hug him, even though they had both survived the fucking Ragnarök – had just been a figment of Loki’s imagination. This had ever Thor’s way of dealing with such things when it came to Loki: bury it all deep and leave it there for an eternity to rot and fester and fossilise until one of them – usually Loki – dug it up again.  

About Earth though, Thor was right; the Midgardians did love him. Thor was loved wherever he went; it was Loki who was abhorred. 

“Let me rephrase that: Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring  _me_  back to Earth?” 

“Probably not, to be honest. But I wouldn’t worry, brother, I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”

*** * ***

  

He was wrong, of course. Nothing worked out and everything hurt.  

“I Loki,” he had said to Thanos (to Thor). “Prince of Asgard,  _Odinson_...” As he briefly – _significantly_ – glanced at Thor, he willed his words to settle into Thor’s mind, and his heart, absorbed through the very pores of his skin and down into his bones with the fervour that Loki meant them. “...the rightful King of Jötunheim, god of Mischief, do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity.” 

It suddenly –  _insanely_  – occurred to him that it sounded like he was making a marriage vow to his brother; like he was pledging his troth to Thor. He was in a way, he mused, as his life flashed by in a series of stark images in his mind, much like a Midgardian movie (Thor, his mother, his father, Thor, Thor,  _Thor_ ), as he drew closer to Thanos with the spelled dagger in his hand. It was a meagre weapon against such a formidable foe, he was aware of that even as he’d conjured it, and even as he spoke the words pledging himself to Thanos with lies – pledging himself to Thor with truths – he knew his death would mean that Thor lived, because Thanos loved balance in all things.  

Loki knew that his snivelling request to lead the quest to Earth would hold no worth to Thanos, not with the Black Order there to do his dark bidding no matter the cost; he would have done all in his power to double cross Thanos and the Titan knew it. For Loki, it was merely a distraction from his true purpose: to get Thanos to focus his ire on him and not Thor. 

“Undying,” Thanos drawled, finally paying Loki the attention he wanted. “You should choose your words more carefully.” 

Loki had. He’d chosen his words very carefully indeed.  

_Kill_ me, he thought,  _send_ me _into eternal darkness, condemn_ me.  _Leave my brother alone; let Thor live_. 

He fiercely pushed his will towards the Norns, the universe, and the Titan, his fealty to his brother driving him ever onwards.  

For Thanos always forgot: he equated the amassing of power to becoming a self-proclaimed god. Perhaps he would become just that powerful, he thought as Thanos’ grip on his neck lifted him off the ground, but... 

“You...will never be...a god,” Loki choked out with his last breath, to Thanos and to Thor, reminding Thanos of his failing, and reminding Thor to keep his faith. 

They were gods. What the Norns had in store for them was surely not going to culminate with an early end at the whims of this Mad Titan, not when half the Asgardians were floating through space, homeless and without the protection of their King.  

Thanos had no knowledge of what awaited after Death took you; Loki did. He’d been dead before. 

His plan to return from Death’s grip – though tenuous and hastily engineered – was nevertheless a spell he’d had in his arsenal for a long time. He just hadn’t had time to perfect it. And it definitely needed tweaking now because he had not expected to lose Heimdall too. Thor would never forgive him if there had been a chance to save Heimdall and Loki had not taken it.  

Now the tiny bit of Eternal Flame he had taken from the Vault along with Surtur’s crown and the Tesseract would need to be shared by  _two_ gods coming back from wherever Death took them instead of only one.  

Heimdall would certainly be headed for Valhalla because he had died a warrior in defence of the Asgardians, but Loki had died as he’d lived: a trickster. And it would take every trick he knew to get to Heimdall  _and_ work the spell to revive them both into the land of the living. 

But worst of all, it would take time.  

He’d not planned on putting Thor through another period of mourning but, now, he had no choice. 

He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

*** * ***

 

**Chapter Three: Flight**

_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in **flight** ,_

_And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,_

_Do not go gentle into that good night._

 

 

_Rage_. 

It seemed like rage was the only emotion he could feel recently, and it was both powerful and impotent, simmering beneath his skin with no outlet.  

The spell had taken too long to weave, and the wisps of Eternal Flame he had taken were so small. Loki was sometimes tempted beyond measure to abandon his search for Heimdall; it was only the fact that Thor would want him to keep trying that drove him ever onwards in his quest to enter Valhalla. 

He remembered everything, of course.  

He remembered the anguished look in Thor’s eyes, the silenced scream from his bound mouth, the utter remorse and dejection and fear he must have felt. Or was that what Loki himself had felt? The lines blurred a bit sometimes. He knew he had looked at Thor when he’d once more laid claim to their brotherhood  _(Odinson_ , he’d declared), and he knew in his heart and in his mind that his pledge to Thanos had really been a pledge to his brother who, now that he was worthy, was the only King Loki would ever accept to rule over him. 

But his quest was taking too long. Even with time being the nebulous thing it was in death, Loki understood that. The spell was clear in his mind now, the Eternal Flame was ready in the pocket of space where he had hidden it, and Loki himself was prepared.  

He had searched and searched. He had journeyed along every bough and branch of Yggdrasil it seemed and, still, he’d not found a way into Valhalla. How long he walked (or flew or floated), he did not know. All he knew was that he had to keep moving if he ever wanted to return to Thor’s side. 

When he practically tripped into the golden halls of Valhalla, completely by chance or accident, because he was not certain how he’d actually made it there, he wasn’t sure who was more surprised: him or his parents. 

Frigga held him for what seemed like days and he let her, holding on just as tight, his hands buried in the long curls of hair at her back, his face tucked into her neck as he tried to recapture the scent of her perfume. His father looked on, an inscrutable expression on his face. They did not speak – _he_ couldn’t – probably because he did not belong in Valhalla with them; it was not the place for him.  

When his mother finally released him, Odin reached for the nape of his neck – the same hold Thor always trapped him in – and Loki flinched, for that place on his body belonged only to Thor. 

Odin looked aggrieved, and his mother looked shattered, so Loki reached for his father’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. It was all he could bring himself to give, but his father took it, mirroring his hold and bringing their foreheads together. 

Again, words were said but Loki couldn’t hear them. He felt the distance building between them instead and grabbed and kissed his mother’s hand in the instant before he was swept away, passing through the halls of Valhalla like a breeze, his sharp eyes searching for two familiar faces, though he found none he recognised until he came to the way out.  

Shockingly, Heimdall was not in Valhalla. And thank the Norns that Thor was also nowhere to be seen.  The Warriors Three were there though and, as he passed out of the hallowed halls of the dead, they nodded to him, but only Hogun spoke; still Loki could not hear him and the grim warrior ended up giving him a rueful smile, his hand raised in farewell.  

Loki blinked and he was suddenly in Fólkvangr; he hadn’t even been trying to get there. He wondered if Hogun had played a role in speeding his journey along because he was from Vanaheim and Fólkvangr was ruled by Freyja, the Queen of the Vanir. Loki was a bit surprised that Freyja had not claimed Hogun for her own realm in the Afterlife but, then again, Hogun had died protecting Asgard, as he had done when he’d lived. 

He’d also been relieved to not see Sif amongst the dead in Valhalla; at least Thor still had his most favourite of friends somewhere out there in the land of the living. As Odin, Loki had banished Sif from Asgard when she became increasingly suspicious of him. She had not been gone long before Thor had returned, and then Hela. So, if Loki ever met Sif again, he was going to accept nothing less than grovelling gratitude for inadvertently saving her life. 

Loki travelled through Fólkvangr even faster than he’d done through Valhalla but, though he searched for Heimdall, he had not expected to find him there and he didn’t. When he was done, he was set adrift again, still beneath the branches of Yggdrasil, wondering what had happened to Asgard’s sentry. 

Loki’s grasp on time became more tenuous as he searched on, but then, one day, it suddenly occurred to him where Heimdall might be if he had shunned Valhalla. It made some sense for, of course he would not want to enter those halls; he had died with his task incomplete, too soon, and with too much left undone, especially when it came to protecting the few remaining citizens of Asgard, which had ever been his life’s work. 

He must have gone to Helgafjell, where he may have, in death, continued to exist as he’d done in life. 

It was where Loki himself would’ve gone if he had intended to stay dead. It would be where he would one day go and stay when Thor finally entered Valhalla, hopefully a few more millennia down the road of life. From Helgafjell, Loki could live out his own death at peace, knowing his brother was where he was meant to be, in the hall of fallen warriors, feasting with Odin and Frigga and his friends, revelling in his past victories, demanding another mead with a wide smile and a wink. 

Loki smiled at the thought. Yes; if that was to be Thor’s end, then Loki would take his own place in Helgafjell, satisfied with his lot in death as he’d never been in life, content to perhaps see Thor’s happiness only in his periphery, if he was ever allowed to pass through the hallowed halls of Valhalla again. 

It took him an inordinate amount of time – he thought – to find the Holy Mountain of Helgafjell. His search once he got there was tedious and even more time-consuming; there were too many places to explore, and he could not find one that resembled Heimdall’s home on Asgard, or his place at the Bifrost, or even the Asgardian Palace where he would sometimes walk, always watching, looking out for their people.  

But Loki was nothing if not stubborn and determined and, one night, he stumbled across a familiar-looking old cottage and he stood outside staring at it, wondering where he remembered it from. Nothing came to mind, but the door opened and Heimdall stepped out. 

“I saw you coming.” 

Loki rolled his eyes. “Of course you did,” he drawled as Heimdall waved him in. “You could’ve saved me some hassle and come to me, you know. Time is of the essence right now.” 

One of Heimdall’s eyebrows crooked upwards contemptuously. “In this place, time no longer holds meaning.” 

“Oh, spare me. You know I have every intention of returning to Thor.” 

Heimdall nodded in that annoyingly sage way of his and led him to a cosy kitchen where a fire was quietly burning in the corner and a warm pot of tea waited for them on the table. He waved Loki towards an empty chair and Loki sat, feeling somewhat surreal as his host poured what looked to be a strong brew into two delicate earthenware cups. 

“I know it is not your favoured tea, but it is mine. I think you’ll like it, though,” Heimdall said. 

Loki, who had not even thought about food or drink, let alone consumed any since he’d drawn his last breath, stared at the cup for a good long while before picking it up and taking an anise-scented sip. He hummed in pleasure. “This _is_ good.” 

Heimdall nodded and smiled, his faraway amber eyes looking through Loki at Norns knew what. Loki cleared his throat, and asked the question he’d been longing to ask since he’d died, the only one that was foremost in his mind. “Can you see him?” 

“No,” Heimdall replied. “And I have tried.” 

“He is not in Valhalla.” 

That made Heimdall focus his gaze on him. “I didn’t think you would enter there.” 

“You mean you didn’t think me worthy of entering there.” 

“Your worthiness is no longer in question. You were instrumental in saving Asgard, and in saving Thor from Thanos if you are here and he is not,” Heimdall said, shockingly matter-of-factly. “I just did not think you would allow yourself to enter there. You were always best at punishing yourself for imagined transgressions, especially in your youth.” 

“They were not imagined.” 

“They were not heinous either,” Heimdall argued. “Just...mischievous. As should be expected considering who you are intrinsically, regardless of your many manifestations. Though all that changed when you willingly betrayed your brother.” 

Loki sighed. “That changed many things. Including setting into motion all the events that brought Thanos to us, and that brought us...here.” 

“Do not take credit where it is not due, Loki,” Heimdall advised, his tone as sagacious and serious as it had been whenever he’d berated Loki and Thor as children. “You know very well that nothing and no one could’ve stopped the Mad Titan from coming to claim what he perceived was his.” 

“I cannot help but feel responsible.” 

“That has ever been your nature. Which is why I’m surprised to see you here still. Have you not found a way back?” 

“I have a way back,” Loki told him. “I’ve just been looking for you.” 

Heimdall frowned. “What for?” 

“You were taken too early.” 

“That is not for us to decide.” 

“It was not for Thanos to decide either.” 

Heimdall’s frown deepened, and stared off into the distance again before humming in seeming agreement. “You are right, my Prince.” 

Loki shrugged and tried not to sound too smug; he failed. “I usually am.” 

Heimdall narrowed his eyes. “What do you propose to do about it, then?” 

“I will take us back.” 

“How?” 

“I took some of the Eternal Flame before it burned away with Asgard. It is a small amount, only what would fit in my palm, but it should be enough for you and I to return.” 

Sudden understanding lit up Heimdall’s face. “That is a complex spell, one that I have only heard rumours of.” He paused to scrutinise Loki until Loki had to resist the urge to squirm. “It could have dire consequences.” 

“Well. The consequences would be mine alone to bear as the spell-caster. Besides, I made rumour a reality a long time ago. It will work. Probably. No, it will. It _has_ to. It has just taken time, for I wasn’t expecting to have to share the Flame with another.” 

“You are more valuable to him than I will ever be,” Heimdall said. “If there is a chance that you will not return because you chose to share the Flame with me, do not take it. Return without me; I am content.” 

“Thor will never forgive me if he found out I could’ve brought you back and I didn’t even try.” Loki stared into the depths of his teacup before looking to Heimdall with renewed fervour. “He needs you and your all-seeing eyes back more than me.” 

Heimdall shook his head and he smiled ruefully. “I see that you are as blind as ever when it comes to Thor. He would forgive you  _anything_. He has in the past and he will do it until the day he dies, even if he dies by your hand. There is no choice when it comes to you, for we all know he will choose you time and time again.” 

“And we all also know that I am the _wrong_ choice! You’re his closest friend; he will need your wise counsel.” 

“Thor without you is a shell of himself,” Heimdall told him, his amber eyes holding Loki in their thrall. “I have seen him as such, hollow and bleak. Oh, he smiles and cares and breathes as he grieves, but he needs you to _live_. You are his entire universe.” 

Loki slammed his fist on the table, setting his teacup rattling in its saucer. “Believe me when I say that I am not! He is my brother. He is older – slightly – but one thing we have always done is protect each other. Even from ourselves. I wish to return to him only because I don’t know what he faces out there with Thanos. If Thanos won and set into motion what he’s always wanted, I need to know that Thor is safe. And if Thanos has been miraculously defeated, I want to know that Thor is happy. That is all.” 

“That is a lot.” 

“Yes. Well... You know Thor and I have a complicated relationship.”

Heimdall rolled his all-seeing eyes. “That is the Allfather of all understatements.” 

Loki snorted and then drained his teacup. “We’re wasting time. Are you ready to go?” 

Heimdall took a long look around his small abode; there was a melancholic longing in his expression but it vanished in an instant, and was replaced by his usual stoicism. “What do I need to do?” 

“Focus on one of the living to bring you back to life,” Loki said simply.  

“Your focus will be Thor?” Heimdall asked, unnecessarily in Loki’s opinion, because who else would he ever focus on? 

Loki nodded anyway; Heimdall would likely also focus on Thor; he was a pretty potent anchor to latch on to. “Your connection to him must be strong,” Loki instructed. “Your focus must not waver or the spell will take you elsewhere. Maybe close to Thor but not directly to him.” 

“Will  _your_ focus not be distracted if you have to weave the spell at the same time?” 

Loki scoffed. “My focus is always on Thor. It comes as naturally as breathing. I can concentrate wholly on the spell and never lose sight of Thor even if I actively tried to.” 

Heimdall chuckled. “Two peas in a pod.” 

“Thor does not focus on me the same way,” Loki argued. 

“You think not?” Heimdall scoffed, incredulous in a way Loki had never quite seen him before. “I have been watching Thor since the day he was born and you from the day Odin brought you to us. For centuries, I never had to split my focus when it came to the two of you because where one was, surely the other was close. Thor has watched you with the same dedication and intensity as I watched over Asgard. He started from the first moment Frigga placed you in the same cradle beside him, before he could even speak or know his own mind, and he only really stopped when you fell into the Void. But, even then, out of sight has never meant out of mind, not for either of you.” 

Loki gulped. Heimdall’s words were like a balm to his aching soul, and every part of him that had always and still yearned for his brother’s undivided attention. It made him want to be at Thor’s side immediately, no matter what the welcome. 

Loki stood, and Heimdall stood with him; they walked out into the wilds of Helgafjell together. 

In a vast empty meadow, Loki calmed himself, and called the Eternal Flame to his hand. He looked at Heimdall and they nodded at one another, readying themselves. With the spell weaving intricate patterns in his mind, Loki spoke the enchantment in an ancient dead language that no one had heard in millennia. His seiðr flowed out of him like water, refreshing and cool, leaving a sweet taste on his tongue.  

He closed his eyes as he believed and focused and chanted. 

He took flight. 

Wind rushed past his ears with the force of a hundred hurricanes. He knew Heimdall was close; he could feel his presence. He did not know how long they flew, but he could feel the power of the Eternal Flame as it flickered and flared between their bodies, licks of its fire swooping outwards and reaching for them both, building to a blaze with the power of Loki’s seiðr, its flames entwining their bodies, hot and fierce. 

He kept his eyes closed. 

When he opened them again, a bombardment of metallic spears was raining down on him.  

Instinctively, he threw his arms up and his seiðr shot out with great force, forming a tangible shield that protected him as well as the people he could sense were close behind him. 

The spears glanced off the protective seiðr dome but he could still see the creatures that had thrown them. The Badoon Brotherhood, he recognised; a reptilian alien race only slightly less uglier than the Chitauri. 

They were an old foe, for it was their brethren who had found him when he’d fallen into the Void. 

It had been their brethren who had sold him to Thanos. 

Suffice it to say that Loki had beef with them, and a major score to settle. 

They were advancing now, their weapons drawn. And just Loki’s luck, right behind them were a band of the filthy and bloodthirsty Brood. 

Without thinking, Loki readied his seiðr. 

There was something wrong, though. Or rather, something not wholly right. 

It was his body. It was beyond strange, but it didn’t fit him the way it should. 

He refocused. 

He centred himself. 

He rolled his head to loosen the muscles in his neck, squared his shoulders, andcalled himself back. 

Back from Helgafjell, back from Fólkvangr, back from Valhalla, back from beneath the branches of Yggdrasil... 

Back from the dead.  

He reined in his seiðr and then  _unleashed_ it. 

Like a caged wild beast finally given its freedom, it flowed freer than it had ever done before, spiralling out of him, revitalised with renewed vigour from the Eternal Flame, and more powerful than it had ever been in his previous lives. 

With a happy sigh, he felt his body return to him, clothed in his battle armour.  

He was finally himself. 

Shunning his customary daggers, he called forth his twin rapiers as the foolish Badoon soldiers ran towards him.  

He smiled.  

It was good to be back.

 

* * *

 

Loki spun, his rapiers like sharp metal whips, thin and deadly, flaying the bodies of the two Badoon warriors intent on attacking him. As he turned, he finally got a look at the people behind him, and watched as they spurred into action, fighting off the few soldiers who had snuck past Loki. They were Asgardian, he realised in shock. 

He'd been reunited with his people; the spell had worked!

But where was Thor? 

Whirling again, his rapiers working like extensions of his arms, he noticed that _something_ was killing The Brood. Whatever it was flew through the air, and Loki separated his mind from his body, listening closely to the weapon sing. 

It sang the song of the storm, and it rode on a bolt of lightning. 

Loki grinned; Thor was close. 

His mind returned to his body, instinct guiding him in his onslaught against the enemy more than anything else. His seiðr protected him and fought with him and for him like a weaponised shield: it truly was stronger than it had ever been before, but he had no time to marvel at it, he only tested its reach and its power as he fought and, every time, it surpassed his expectations. 

Loki _revelled_ in it. 

He split himself until there were at least two dozen of him. The advancing Badoon infantry startled so comically that it made Loki laugh with joyous abandon even as he reached out with his seiðr and annihilated them. 

When two hundred or so Badoon soldiers lay dead at his feet, he felt _him_ , his brother, his... Thor. 

Thor was smiling like a maniac as he watched Loki – unerringly finding the real him amongst his clones – and Loki soaked up the genuine wonder on his face, and the true affection and awe in Thor’s gruff voice as he greeted him: “Hello, brother.” 

Loki laughed, because what else could he do? “You’ve got a new eye. It’s purple.” 

“Actually, it’s violet,” Thor teased, his breath coming in pants.

Loki snorted. “Forgive me; you’re too far away for me to catch the exact shade of  _purple_.” 

Thor laughed, looking delighted with their inane banter. Loki, meanwhile, lopped off the head of a nearby enemy soldier who had likewise been trying to decapitate him. “A little help, brother?” 

Thor scrunched up his face as if in thought. “I think you have it under control.” 

“Of course I do, but there are rather a lot of them,” Loki replied as he – and his clones – fought the good fight. It was becoming tedious, though. Especially when his ridiculously powerful brother was just standing around doing nothing. “Seriously, Thor?” 

“What? You’re out of practice! It’ll be good for you!” 

Loki’s eyes goggled in disbelief, and he growled in frustration. “I really hate you sometimes!” 

Thor inhaled deeply, the only sign that the words had perhaps needled him, but his smile didn’t waver; he shrugged as if unaffected. “So what else is new?” 

Loki frowned but kept fighting, his seiðr guiding his movements in a way it had never done before, to the extent that he actually took his eyes off Thor. His rapiers vanished without him really thinking about it and, in their place, icicle-shaped daggers formed from his hands and flew from him, one after another, a hail of them, piercing the enemy and laying them to waste. Even his clones had copied his magic and that was something new. He shook his head to clear it because he felt a strange coldness in his body. Then he noticed that the daggers he was throwing didn’t just look like icicles, they  _were_  icicles. 

He was taken aback. He had never before been able to forge ice from his Æsir-honed seiðr; this was how the _J_ _ö_ _tnar_ fought. 

He wondered what else he could do and stopped in the midst of his clones, rolling and relaxing his neck and shoulders as he breathed deeply and focused his magic. 

He let loose his seiðr, which flowed from him in streams of green _and_ blue, intertwined but still separate, and suddenly icicles, ice picks, ice shards – basically anything sharp and pointy and made of ice – shot from him and his clones, piercing the enemy as they screamed and dropped to the ground, either dead or dying. He raised his hands to the sky – his clones followed suit – and ice spears rained from the sky, silent and lethal. The Badoon on the ground that had still been drawing breath soon joined their dead brethren. 

Wide-eyed, Loki stopped to turn and look at Thor. His brother looked suitably impressed as did the Valkyrie, who had appeared at Thor’s side with her sword drawn. There was also a motley crew of creatures surrounding them, but Loki only recognised Korg and Meik. 

Valkyrie whistled. “That was a bit Hela-esque but you’re on our side, so nice work,” she said, impressed by Loki’s prowess with his seiðr, and not hiding it. She looked to Thor. “Shouldn’t we be stepping in?” 

Thor grinned, his eyes still focused on Loki. “Why spoil his fun? Besides, I missed this. I keep forgetting how formidable a warrior he can be.” 

Loki glared at them. “If you two are quite done gossiping...” 

“Behind you, brother,” Thor warned nonchalantly. 

Loki killed one of the giant Brood behind him without looking, burst of his magic freezing it to solid ice before another shot of seiðr shattered it to pieces. “Must I do everything myself?”  

He summoned his rapiers back to his hands as Thor finally approached him, coming closer – close enough to touch – looking excited, enthralled, and... _enamoured_. 

Loki was tempted to conjure something to throw at his head. Then he realised he could, and Thor was promptly smacked in the face by a snowball. Loki laughed at the incredulous look on his big brother’s face. 

“What was that for?” Thor asked, spitting out ice and scrubbing a hand down his face. 

“I just came back from the dead, Thor – I’m tired and I’m hungry. Help me!” 

Thor held his hand out to both call his new weapon to it and summon his lightning from the sky; it took down a swathe of enemy soldiers. It was a mere drop in the bucket considering their numbers; they were like ants pouring out of the anthills of their spaceships. 

“Thank you,” Loki remarked caustically. “No really; whatever would I do without you?” 

Thor smiled at him, some unfathomable emotion in his expression. “I will do everything in my power to make sure you never find out.” 

Loki eyed him in silence, absently sending his seiðr out to incapacitate a few of the oncoming enemy. “Did you mourn me, brother?” 

“No,” Thor said, his good eye suddenly brimming with tears. He dashed them off his cheek when they spilled over. “I  _missed_ you. Terribly. I knew you’d come back, though. I knew it. It’s just... Why did you take so long, Loki?” 

“I had to detour and get Heimdall out too. He should be back. Have you seen him?” 

“No! You...Heimdall? You tried to get him back?” 

“The spell worked; he’s out. Back. Whatever. You need to find him.” 

“ _We_ will find him,” Thor promised, raising his...axe? 

Loki stared at the gigantic weapon in Thor’s hand and blinked. “What is that?” 

Thor grinned like a lunatic. “Stormbreaker.” 

“Uru?” 

“Aye. Forged by Eitri himself.” 

“But it’s so small. You couldn’t get something a little bigger maybe?” Loki asked acerbically. 

Thor chuckled impishly. “It’s not the size of the weapon that matters, little brother; it’s how I wield it.” 

Loki snorted and rolled his eyes. “Where are we, by the way?” 

“Nyr Asgard.” 

“You found us a planet? _Is_ this a planet?” 

“My friends found us a planet, aye. It’s small but its wholly ours. You’ll love it, Loki; as I do. It’s all wildness and chaos; very you.” 

“Your friends?” 

“Aye – this is Rabbit.” 

Loki raised a dubious eyebrow. “Thor, that is a raccoon.” 

“His _name_ is Rabbit.” 

The raccoon spoke. “Actually, it’s Rocket.” 

Thor smiled and nodded and waved at the adolescent living tree standing next to the raccoon. “And this is Groot.” 

“ _I am Groot_.” 

Loki smirked. “I _am_ a badass; thank you, Groot.”  

“I am Groot.” 

“Yes, I’mLoki. Brother of this useless oaf. God of Thunder, my arse.”

Thor laughed. “It’s good to have you back, brother.” 

Valkyrie heaved a long-suffering sigh and pointed at the three incoming enemy ships in the sky. “Time enough for flirting later; this isn’t over!” 

Loki shot Thor a quelling look. “It would be if Thor actually helped me!” Thor grinned with enough mischief to impress even Loki. Loki held his hand up before Thor could even open his mouth. “No. ‘Get Help’ will not work this time!” 

“You spoil all my fun,” Thor said, sighing as if Loki had asked him for one of the moons he could see in the distance. “I’ll take out their ships; Loki, front and centre on the ground. The rest of you, get these people into the palace; I don’t want any of them getting electrocuted.” 

Like loyal subjects of a true king and commander, everyone split up to do Thor’s bidding. Even Loki, he thought, shocked at himself as Thor raised his axe and rose into the sky, his eyes glowing white and lightning crackling along his body. 

Loki smirked; he would never tire of seeing brother harnessing his seiðr like this; Thor was truly the most beautiful deadliest force he’d ever seen. 

When a Badoon spear whizzed by Loki’s head, missing it by a mere inch, he refocused on the battle. 

He released his seiðr in a powerful burst, exulting in finally being able to reveal his true strength, his prowess in battle, so that no one – including Thor – would ever underestimate him again. 

This time, aquamarine seiðr surged forth from his fingers – a true melding of his Æsirand Jötunn powers – the same time as electric white seiðr flashed over his head. A huge shattering noise erupted, like the sound barrier had been broken, and a tidal wave of blue flame, intertwined with white lightning, was unleashed from Loki and Thor. 

It chased out over the land and through the air with a blast-like force, kicking up an sandstorm and bending giant trees like reeds in the winds that followed. 

When the dust settled, there was finally blessed silence, and all the enemy lay dead at Loki’s feet. From the skies, the three Badoon ships fell, rudderless and powerless. 

A wave of Loki’s seiðr flashed towards the ships and they froze solid before exploding into blue flame, burning and melting as they hit the ground. He surveyed the dead and whispered a spell; in seconds, the bodies decayed as if mummified, crumbling to dust.

He looked up at Thor, who hovered high in the air in front of him, and yelled: “A little rain would be welcome, don’t you think?” 

“As you wish,” Thor shouted back with a smile. His eyes sparked with white lightning as he raised his axe to the sky once more and called forth a storm. 

Vapours rose from the vast ocean Loki could see in the distance, swirling and swelling overhead as they formed clouds, heavy and darkening with moisture as they rushed inland. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the clouds soon opened up overhead, a cleansing rain falling over all the destruction the battle had wrought. 

Loki watched as Thor landed and walked over to him, his steps strangely hesitant as he carelessly dropped his axe to the ground. 

Loki took off his helm, shaking out his sweaty hair and tilting his head up to the sky, taking a moment to close his eyes and relish the feel of cool rain on his face before walking to meet his brother. They were both practically soaked as they came together, stopping only when they were almost chest to chest.  

“Hello, brother.” Loki smirked up at Thor. “Tell me, how much did you miss me?” 

“More than you could ever imagine,” Thor said gruffly, gently slipping his hand under Loki’s hair to cup the nape of his neck, his thumb brushing soothingly across Loki’s cheek, holding him again the same way he’d done all their lives together. Loki felt like he could finally breathe easy; only now did he truly feel alive again. Thor leaned down until their foreheads touched. “Why did it take you so long to come back to me?” 

Loki blinked, trying to remember the details. “It was an arduous journey, and I had to find Heimdall as I said. As usual, he did not make it easy on me.” He looked up at Thor; their faces were close enough to share a kiss, he thought rather absurdly. He gave himself a mental shake to clear his thoughts. “How long was I gone?” 

Tears once again glistened in Thor’s true eye. “Over thirty years.” 

Loki gasped in horror, and almost lost the strength in his legs. He would’ve fallen if Thor had not wrapped a strong arm around his waist and held him upright. 

He grasped Thor’s neck, mirroring his brother’s hold on him. “I didn’t...I didn’t know! I didn’t realise... Thor! You have to believe me, I never meant to stay gone for so long...” His mind reeled and he dropped his head against his brother’s broad shoulder, his breaths becoming shallower. 

“Easy, Loki,” Thor whispered. “Breathe, brother.” Loki tried; it got easier when Thor pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head. “You’re fine. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters; believe me.” Thor laughed, and it was both relieved and joyous. 

“Stupid Heimdall,” Loki muttered. 

“How did you find him?” 

“I looked everywhere,” Loki told him, his memories a bit hazy now that he tried to focus on them. He suddenly only remembered finding Heimdall, but he had no idea where else he’d searched. “He was in Helgafjell, but I think it took me an age to track him down there.” 

“What made you look for him?” 

“You,” Loki whispered, keeping his face hidden in Thor’s shoulder. “It was my fault that he died. I had to bring him back if I could, even if it meant that I could not come back myself; I knew you would never forgive me otherwise.” 

Thor nuzzled the side of Loki’s head with his nose. “I have missed Heimdall a great deal; I have missed his friendship and his counsel, but I have not yearned for him the way I have for you, Loki.” 

Loki gasped softly and reared back to see his brother’s face. “Truly?” 

Thor kissed his forehead, and Loki held himself back from leaning into it, or savouring it, or quietly begging for more of his touch. “I do not blame you for his death. I didn’t then and I don’t now. Every single Asgardian we lost was because of Thanos. That includes you.” 

“Well,” Loki started, not quite knowing what to say to that. “His death didn’t sit right with me. It was not his time.” 

“And he will return?” 

“He already has,” Loki told him. “Just...not here apparently. His focus must’ve been off. Maybe he’s on the other side of this planet.” 

“Focus?” 

“I told him he needed to focus on someone living to guide him back.” Loki shrugged. “I thought he would’ve focused on you.” 

Thor cocked his head and looked at him curiously. “What guided you back?” 

Loki stared up at him for a split second before whacking the back of his head; Thor shouldn’t be asking him stupid questions. 

“Ow!” 

“You, you idiot,” Loki told him with a huff. Thor smiled delightedly at that news, even as he rubbed his head. Loki sobered. “Your lightning has ever shone brightest in my life; it was so even in the fathomless darkness of death.” 

Thor looked devastated. “Loki...” 

“I’ll take that hug now.” 

Time froze. Or maybe it was just Thor. 

A familiar dread began to fill Loki’s stomach; he ignored it. The Norns had given him another chance at life when he should’ve had none, and he was not going to waste it this time, and certainly not on a petty, trivial, trifling thing like his centuries-old hostility with his brother. 

“You should know...” Thor started, as if unsure of himself, of his welcome. Loki huffed; Thor was always welcome, he thought, hooking his hand into the top of Thor’s chest-plate at his neck and tugging him close enough to feel the warmth of Thor’s breath on his face as he spoke, even through the rain that still beat down upon them. “Loki...if... If you let me hold you in my arms right now, I may never let you go.” 

Loki looked him right in his real eye. “I can live with that.” 

Thor stared at him for seemingly endless seconds. “Aye,” Thor whispered, cupping Loki’s face in his big warm hands, surrender in every line of his body just as submission was in every line of Loki’s. “You live. You do that; I’ll take care of the rest.”

And with those words, spoken with the same reverence as a holy and sacred vow, Thor finally pulled him close by the back of his head, tucking Loki’s face into the space between his neck and shoulder as he hugged him, his enormous body – seriously, had he gotten even _bigger?_ – dwarfing Loki’s and making him feel warm, despite the rain still pelting them, and safe, despite the fact that they had just been attacked and they hadn’t even determined if what they’d killed were the last of the enemy army. 

Loki let it go, though, and basked in the feel of Thor surrounding him everywhere. It had been so long since he’d been held with any sort of affection. And it felt like eons since he’d been close enough to his beloved behemoth of a brother to actually breathe in the lightning-spiced scent of him, to touch his skin, and feel the planes and valleys of his muscles beneath his fingers.

Loki closed his eyes and breathed in deep and... _relaxed_. 

Wherever Thanos was, he was not here. Wait, he thought, his heart rate spiking again. Speaking of Thanos – where was he? 

“Thor,” Loki mumbled into the rain-slick skin of Thor’s neck. “What happened to Thanos?” 

“Dead,” Thor said, his voice hard, his tone rife with more than a little satisfaction. 

Loki sagged in relief. _Now_ , he could really relax; he’d get the details later if he cared enough; he was just happy he could put all that behind him. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, his anxiety leaving his mind as that breath left his lungs. 

Thanos was dead, and Thor was alive and here and he seemed well. He looked healthy, he looked happy, and he was surrounded by his people and his friends on a planet that he’d called theirs. 

So, Loki thought, maybe he too could stop for a while and not only relax but also recuperate, regain his strength and his sanity, and just breathe. For the first time in a long time, the sins of his past were not going to come back and haunt him. Hopefully, the Black Order had also met the same fate as their overlord and he could finally rest easy. 

It felt good. Norns, it felt wondrous. So much so that he felt a bit lightheaded. 

“I think I need to lie down,” he muttered. 

Thor cupped the back of his head and pulled back, reluctantly it seemed. Loki almost squirmed under the intense scrutiny of his worried gaze. “I’ll take you to my chambers; we’ll draw you a bath.” 

Before Loki could say a word, Thor pulled him back into his arms. “Val!” he yelled, startling Loki. “Do you have everything under control here?” 

“Yes, we’ve got this!” Valkyrie shouted from afar, probably the palace steps, Loki deduced since Thor wouldn’t let him look. 

“We’ll be in my rooms,” Thor told her, and there was a whistling through the air as Thor reached out his hand, the handle of his axe slapping into it. He looked down at Loki. “Hold tight.” 

As if he could ever fall with the grip Thor had on him. But Loki dutifully did as he was bid, hooking his arms around Thor’s shoulders as he raised his axe and they shot up to the sky. 

The sudden surge made Loki nauseous; he shook his head to dissipate it and closed his eyes but, in a minute, they were landing on a balcony. 

“A little slower next time, brother,” he said, clutching his stomach as he pushed away from Thor and staggered towards the first wall he saw. He leaned against it and drew in great gulps of air before he felt safe to move again. 

Thor looked sheepish. “Sorry.” 

Loki waved him off. “I’d like to bathe, and then sleep for a hundred years. And then maybe eat a horse.” 

“Come,” Thor said, laughing and holding out his hand, and waiting until Loki took it. 

Thor prepared his bath with all the attention of a first-time father with a newborn. Loki bit his lip to stop the snort of laughter as he watched Thor dump some sort of flowery oils into the bath, frowning in concentration as he took a sniff and then added some more. 

Leaving Thor to ‘brew’ his bath, Loki wandered around his brother’s chambers. There was something familiar about it and he shook his head at himself when he finally realised: it was an almost exact replica of Loki’s rooms in their old palace on Asgard. 

He turned back to look at his brother, but the teasing words froze on his lips as he watched Thor watch him, the softest, most wistful smile on his face as he added soap to the bath, swirling his hand through the water until frothy bubbles took form. 

Loki had not had a bubble bath since he was a child. Well, maybe a teenager. As children, he and Thor had often shared their baths together. He felt a wistful smile of his own form on his face as he turned away and began undressing. 

He draped his cape and jacket over the long divan that was near the balcony doors, facing outwards and perfectly positioned for someone to lie on it outstretched as they watched the sunset or moonrise. Loki picked up his helm and was about to place it on his clothes, but Thor stopped him as he walked back into the bedroom. 

“I have a place for that,” Thor said cryptically. When Loki frowned, Thor gently took his helm from his hands. He placed it on a pedestal on the opposite side of the room, just inside the balcony doors. 

“Is that the place for your helm?” Loki asked, confused. 

“Mine was lost a long time ago,” Thor told him. “Yours was all I had left of you after... Afterwards. I kept it here but it’s vanished; you must have called it to you when you came back. So, this place is all yours.” He held Loki by the back of his neck again and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Water’s lukewarm, but I can cool it for you if you want.” 

“No,” Loki said, feeling incredibly out-of-sorts. “The rain was cooling enough. Thank you.” 

“Are you hungry? I can bring you some food while you bathe.” 

“I am but I’m not.” Look shook his head and tried to make sense. “I don’t want anything right now,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head. He sat down on the divan to take off his boots but Thor kneeled before him and began undoing the clasps himself. He pulled them off one by one and stood, smiling as he held out his hand again. 

“Is this going to be a thing?” Loki asked, putting his hand in Thor’s, because, why not? 

Thor frowned, absently raising Loki’s hand to his mouth and pressing a fond little kiss to his knuckles. “What thing?” 

He didn’t even realise he was doing it, Loki realised. He cleared his throat. “You waiting on me hand and foot. Literally.” 

“You’re complaining?” 

Loki smirked. “Oh no; I’m just wondering how long I have so I can savour every moment.” 

Thor laughed. “You can have the rest of our lives, brother. And if ever I forget, I give you leave to remind me. Painfully, and with sharp pointy objects, if need be,” he teased with a wink. 

Loki blinked. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” 

Thor tugged him close and hugged him, whispering in his ear: “This is your brother after being forced to live for thirty years without you by my side.” 

“I’ve been gone before,” Loki reminded him. 

“Not for this long, without word or even a glimpse of you in my periphery.” Thor tightened his hold. “There were days...” he started, his voice sounding a little strangled. “There were desolate days when I lost all hope. Thanos said... After you’d gone, he said: _no more resurrections_. Some days, the few when I could sleep, I heard his voice in my dreams and I wondered if, this time, his words were the truth.” Thor sighed deeply. “Then I wondered if you’d already come back, but were keeping your vow of staying on the other side of the universe from wherever I was...” 

“A promise I would never be able to keep, I assure you, brother.” 

“I think, deep down, knowing you like I do, I knew that.” 

Loki was unprepared for the sheer anguish he saw in his brother’s face. He placed his hand over Thor’s strong, steady heartbeat. “I’m here.” 

“Aye,” Thor whispered reverently, covering Loki’s hand with his. “And I will not take that for granted ever again.” He cupped Loki’s face and kissed both his cheeks and wiped away the tears Loki hadn’t even realised had spilled from his eyes. “Go to your bath before the bubbles vanish. I will fetch you some of my clothes to wear.” 

He turned Loki around and gave him a little shove in the direction of the bathing chamber and then wondered off to where Loki knew the wardrobe and changing room would be, right next to the study. He mechanically removed the rest of his garments and gingerly took the five steps down into the deep stone tub. It was smaller than his old one, with perhaps only room to comfortably fit five people, but much more practical. From what little he could see of Thor’s chamber, there were none of the frills and fripperies of their old rooms on Asgard; Loki had yet to see anything gleaming with gold. He liked this utilitarian look, though; it was very reminiscent of what he’d seen of this planet: all natural stone walls and floors, lush verdant potted plants and earthy ceramics, and glass only at the wide windows, which made the rooms airy and bright. The entire effect was soothing and tranquil; Loki thought he might very well like it here. 

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scents of lavender and jasmine, mint and a hint of sandalwood. Though the majority of the bubbles had indeed vanished, there was enough soap in the water with which to scrub his body clean of sweat and whatever was left behind by spending three decades in the afterlife. Beside him on the bath’s edge was a bowl of oil of something that smelled like coconut and sweet almonds. Loki scooped out a small handful and rubbed his hands together, running his fingers though his hair and over his neck, shoulders, arms and legs. 

He felt absolutely decadent; he hadn’t pampered himself like this in an age. 

He closed his eyes, dipped his head under the water, and just stayed submerged, clearing his mind. 

An overwhelming sense of relief slammed into him again and he stilled, not even breathing until he felt Thor’s presence. He rose and found his brother staring at him, the look on his face worried. 

“I had my doubts, too,” Loki blurted out on a ragged sob, as he gulped in air. “Some days – nights – I don’t even know... I wondered if I should stay dead, so you’d finally be rid of me, and wouldn’t have to worry about me betraying you again...” 

In the span of time it took Loki to blink, Thor was in the bath, clothes and all. He cupped Loki’s face between his hands. “I don’t care, Loki! Do you hear me? I don’t care – good or bad – we’ll cross those bridges when we come to them. I just want you here, with me, by my side, _alive_. I don’t give a fuck about anything else!” 

Loki exhaled the breath he was holding. “Hold me...as you always have,” he begged, because right now all he felt against his neck was the cold hard metal of Thanos’ gauntlet slowly squeezing the life out of him. 

Thor moved his hand to the nape of his neck, his fingers weaving through Loki’s wet hair while his thumb stroked along Loki’s cheek, brushing away his tears. He dropped his other hand from Loki’s face to rest it in the crook between his neck and shoulder and slowly, hesitantly moved it until the backs of his fingers brushed against Loki’s neck, softly caressing the apple of his throat, his eyes never wavering from Loki’s even as his hand ever so gently wrapped around his throat. 

Loki had to close his eyes to savour the touch; it was like receiving a benediction, being cleansed of his past sins; being blessed and forgiven and accepted and... _loved_.  

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Thor was crying too. This time a strangled laugh escaped him; they were a pair of overemotional idiots. Thor looked at him for a couple of seconds before his mouth twitched. Soon they were both laughing and clutching each other and hugging. It was ridiculous and perfect and Loki rubbed his leaky nose on the shoulder of Thor’s wet tunic. 

“Did you just wipe your nose on me?” 

“You’re the one wearing clothes in the bath.” 

“You’re gross.” 

“I see you have added more Midgardian words to your vocabulary.” 

Thor hummed noncommittally and let go of Loki long enough to whip his wet tunic off and toss it to the tiled floor. His trousers followed a few seconds later. Loki studied his bare, chiselled chest, pleased to find no battle scars there. He reached out to touch his brother’s warm wet skin, just to reassure himself that he was real; his hand stilled over Thor’s beating heart again, and he closed his eyes, grateful. 

“I’m here,” Thor said gruffly, placing his hand over Loki’s heart as if seeking the same reassurance. 

Loki wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that but it felt like an age. Thor let go of him first, though; ( _like he always did_ , a dark voice whispered in Loki’s mind). Loki shook it off because a second later, Thor’s soapy hands were in his hair, scrubbing through and washing it clean. He massaged Loki’s head as he did so and it felt so heavenly that Loki moaned softly. Thor’s fingers stilled, and so did his breathing for a few seconds before he returned to his task. 

Then he dunked Loki into the water. 

Loki sputtered and kicked him in the shins, but stayed under until he washed the silken soap from his head. When he resurfaced, Thor was smirking at him as he washed his own hair. 

“I’m glad you grew it out again,” Loki said, as he once more slicked a little oil through his wet hair. He could just imagine the fright he would look like in the morning with the humidity he felt on this planet. 

“Did you not like me with short hair?” 

“You know very well that your shorn locks suited you. As all things do. But this is the real you.” 

Thor nodded. “I was so angry when it was cut. I had a lock of your hair, that I took from you in Svartalfheim...” 

“You took a lock of my hair?” Loki asked, stunned. “After I died?” 

“Did you really die?” 

“Yes. Or I came very close to it. You’ve accused me of pretending, but I really did die, if only for a short while. Minutes, maybe hours; I don’t know.” Loki shrugged. “It was a good thing in hindsight; practice for this time around.” 

Thor winced. “I just...wanted something to remember you by,” he told him, sighing. He sank into the water when Loki stared at him and, when he resurfaced closer to Loki, his hair was free of suds and plastered to his head. “I had it twined with a lock of my own hair, right here,” he said, trailing his fingers from his temple down behind his left ear and to his neck. “But it was cut off with the rest of my hair, and I was tied to that damn chair and I couldn’t get it back.” 

Loki moved to him without thinking, stopping only when their bare chests were scant inches apart. Goose flesh broke out across his skin. He shivered, which was strange when he usually preferred his baths on the cooler side. He used his seiðr to warm the water a bit. He dipped his fingers in the bowl of oil and ran them through Thor’s sun-bleached tresses, smoothing out the waves and gently detangling them as he’d done a lifetime ago when they were younger and bathed together daily. 

Thor closed his eyes, as if savouring his touch. When he opened them again, a short eternity later it felt, Loki touched a hand to his own hair, his seiðr effortlessly cutting off a long wet lock. He wove it intricately with Thor’s hair, the plaited pattern a thing of beauty weaved by the god of braids and knots, following the path his brother’s fingers had taken, a wordless spell permanently binding long black strands with blond. Then he clipped a lock of Thor’s hair and braided it into a matching plait with his own wet hair. He hid his well, though. 

He watched as Thor swallowed and reached out, feeling for and finding the blond lovelock of his hair weaved through Loki’s. “What’s the point if you can’t see it?” 

“Yours looks fine, so you can show it to the world,” Loki scoffed. “I, on the other hand will look ridiculous with a streak of blond hair through mine.” 

“You just forged a sweet new link between us and you immediately disparage it for the sake of your vanity,” Thor teased. 

Loki chuckled. “You don’t know me at all if you don’t think I’m vain.” 

Thor’s smile widened. “There have been times when I used to think I knew you better than you know yourself.” His hand slipped down to cup Loki’s nape again. “I think that _you_ know _me_ better than I know myself. Sometimes, I marvel at how intertwined our lives have been, and now will be again, like these lovelocks, complicated and inseparable.” 

“Aye,” Loki agreed. “You will not be rid of me so easily in the future.” 

Thor stared at him, his expression serious. “Do you promise?” 

Loki nodded, and then said the words because their utterance imbued them with power: “I promise.” 

Thor smiled, and rubbed his hands across Loki’s bare shoulders and massaged them slowly. Loki got the shivers again and frowned; the water was still warm, so why was he cold? 

“You’re getting chilled,” Thor said. “I’ll get us some towels.” 

Loki nodded and absently watched Thor leave the tub, rolling his eyes when he took in the golden perfection of his brother’s body, the perfect globes of his arse, and his perfect muscles that made him look like those marble statues that the Midgardians were so fond of fawning over in their museums. 

His skin broke out into goose flesh again and his cock twitched. He stared down at it through the now slightly murky water: this was not an appropriate time for it to be rearing its head. Ridiculous base impulses; they were so beneath him. 

Also, stupid perfect Thor who apparently not only confused Loki, but also confused Loki’s cock now. 

Loki shook his head to clear it of the random tangent it had taken. He wrung out his hair and left the tub when Thor came back wrapped in a soft red robe; he handed a matching one to Loki. He watched him put it on, his eyes carefully not straying from Loki’s face, the prude, and then gave him a fluffy towel to dry his hair. 

“Sleep now?” Thor asked, his cheeks flushed under his beard. Loki hoped it was embarrassment and not because it was too warm in the bedchamber. He feared his Jötunn physiology might be more than a little taxed on this new tropical planet, even in his Æsir skin. 

Loki found that Thor had loosened the sheer sand-coloured drapes at its four posts; they gently fluttered in the breeze from the open balcony doors. He frowned and took another look around the room: everything was so... _beige_. In the bathing chamber the effect was relaxing, but in here it was incredibly dull. 

He closed his eyes and gathered his seiðr to him, sending it out to the sheer drapes of the four-post bed first; they bled into a deep emerald green that looked lovely against the dark mahogany of the wooden bedframe. Loki smirked; much better already. When he turned to look at Thor, he found his brother smiling at him indulgently. 

“You got boring in my absence, brother.” 

“I think the colour just leached out of my life,” Thor replied, his voice gruff with emotion as he reached out his hand. 

As he walked up to his brother, Loki wiggled his fingers so the divan his brother was currently leaning against turned from being covered in a nondescript brown fabric to a deep garnet-red leather, buttery soft and squishy because Loki had just decided that he would be spending a lot of time lying on it in the near future. He leant into Thor’s side, Thor’s arm settling possessively around his shoulders as they surveyed the room. Loki split his focus, gathering things he’d stashed away in his nowhere hidey holes over the course of his life, and bringing them out for the first time in a long time. 

A massive gilded mirror appeared on the bare wall across from the bed, and a large Persian rug shot through with myriad hues of red, gold, cream and green that he’d acquired in Midgard a few centuries ago materialised on the floor between the bed and the divan, matching the room’s new colour scheme perfectly. Another flash of seiðr and the beige walls bled into a sunny golden yellow, not too bright but warm and welcoming. Everything finally looked right; it appeased Loki’s sense of décor. 

Thor chuckled and kissed Loki’s shoulder; it made Loki smile as priceless pieces of artwork he’d sequestered from his old chambers on Asgard appeared on the walls, arranged tastefully with some of the things Thor had had in his old rooms at the palace. Loki had hoarded them when he’d been disguised as Odin, because he’d thought at the time that Thor was happily living his life with that woman on Earth; Loki had wanted mementos. 

“Hey!” Thor exclaimed, striding across the room when he saw what materialised along with an ornate mahogany dresser on the wall by the double-doored entrance into the room. “I thought that was broken and lost!” 

“I fixed it,” Loki said of the perfect replica of the palace at Asgard at its golden finest. 

Teenaged Thor had taken an age to meticulously craft, design, and build the model from scratch, based on the original architect’s ancient drawings, and he’d been ridiculously proud of it. So, when the odious son of a visiting dignitary from Vanaheim had maliciously broken it, shattering it to pieces, he’d been devastated. He’d shrugged it off but, later that night, Loki had caught him crying over the broken pieces in his room. Loki hadn’t known how to fix it, for his seiðr wasn’t yet capable of doing something so intricate, so he’d vanished the broken pieces instead. He’d tried to stay and comfort Thor but, as usual, his brother had pushed him away. 

He did share a secret smile with Loki, though, when that Vanir idiot didn’t show up to breakfast the next morning, his father lamenting about the fact that his son had broken out in inexplicable warts all over his body. 

Centuries later, locked in his prison cell in Asgard, Loki had eventually put the broken pieces back together again. At the time, it had been therapeutic. Because he’d wanted it to look perfect when he presented it to Thor and destroyed it again just to hurt his brother.

Looking at the joy on Thor’s face now, he was glad he hadn’t had the chance to be as vindictive as he had wanted to be back then. This was much better, he thought, breathing deeply. Being him, the way he’d been before, had been exhausting. He had a second – well, third – chance at life now and, this time, he didn’t want to mess it up.

“It’s perfect,” Thor whispered as he hugged Loki close and pressed a long, fond kiss to his curling hair. Still holding Loki in his arms, he turned to take in the room, which now looked more fit for a king. “It finally feels like home,” Thor whispered, giving Loki a squeeze.

The way he looked at Loki as he said the words left no doubt in Loki’s mind that he had not been speaking of the décor.

 

* * *

 

  


End file.
